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THE VARANGIAN AND COUNT ROBERT. 

They stood before an arched door, the only opening in a high wall, and the 
Anglo-Saxon was about to knock. 









































w 



COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS 


By SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. 

H 


The European with the Asian shore— 

Sophia’s cupola with golden gleam — 

The cypress groves — Olympus high and hoar— 

The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream, 
Far less describe, present the very view 
That charm’d the charming Mary Montagu. 

Don Juan. 



CONSTANTINOPLE 


■> > 

) ) > 

\ ) 

BOSTON 

DeWOLFE, FISKE, & CO., PUBLISHERS 

365 Washington Street 




ADVERTS 


SIR WALTER Scott transmitted from Naples , in February , 1832, an 
Introduction for Castle Dangerous ; but if he ever wrote one for a second 
edition of Count Robert of Paris, it has not been discovered among his 
papers. 

Some notes , chiefly extracts from the books which he had been observed to 
consult while dictating this novel, are now appended to its pages ; and in 
addition to what the Author had given in the shape of historical information 
respecting the principal real persons introduced, the reader is here presented 
with what may probably amuse him, the passage of the Alexiad in which 
Anna Comnena describes the incident which originally, no doubt, determined 
Sir Walter’s choice of a hero. 

May, A.D. 1097. — “ As for the midtitude of those who advanced towards 
THE great CITY, let it be enough to say, that they were as the stars in the 
heaven , or as the sand upon the sea-shore. They were, in the words of 
Homer, as many as the leaves and flowers of spring. But for the names 
of the leaders , though they are present in my memory, I will not relate them. 
The numbers of these would alone deter me, even if my language furnished 
the means of expressing their barbarous sounds; and for what purpose 
should I afflict my readers with a long enumeration of the names of those 
whose visible presence gave so much horror to all that beheld them ? 

« As soon, therefore, as they approached the Great City, they occupied the 
station appointed for them by the Emperor, near to the monastery of Cos • 
tnidius. But this multitude were not , like the Hellenic one of old, to be 
restrained and governed by the loud voices of nine heralds ; they required 



10 


WA VERLE Y NO VELS. 


the constant superintendence of chosen and valiant soldiers to keep them from 
violating the commands of the Emperor. 

“ He, meantime , labored to obtain from the other leaders that acknowl- 
edgment of Ins' supreme authority which had already been drawn from God- 
frey [rWro$£e] himself But notwithstanding the willingness of some to ac- 
cede to this proposal , and their assistance in working on the minds of their 
associates , the Emperor's endeavors had little success , as the majority were 
looking for the arrival of Bohemond [Bai/xovro?], in whom they placed their 
chief confidence, and resorted to every art with the view of gaining time. 
The Emperor, whom it was not easy to deceive , penetrated their motives ; 
and by granting to one powerful person demands which had been supposed 
out of all bounds of expectation , and by resorting to a variety of other de- 
vices, he at length prevailed, and won general assent to the following of the 
example of Godfrey , who also was sent for in person to assist in this 
business. 

“All, therefore , being assembled, and Godfrey among them, the oath was 
taken ; but when all was finished, a certain Noble among these Counts had 
the audacity to seat hi?nself on the throne of the Emperor. [ToA/^a-a? ns ino 
navriav twv ko/jitjtwv evyevrj? els tov (TKifinoSa. tov BacriAews eKa.0«rei'.J The Em- 
peror restrained himself and said nothing, for he was well acquainted of old 
with the nature of the Lathis. 

“ But the Count Baldwin [Ba\Sovu/os] stepping forth, and seizing him by 
the hand, dragged him thence, and with many reproaches said, ‘ It becomes 
thee not to do such things here , especially after having taken the oath of 
fealty. [SovAeiav vnoax°i jev V’] ^ the custom of the Roman Emperors 
to permit any of their inferiors to sit beside them, not even of such as are 
born subjects of their empire ; and it is necessary to respect the customs of 
the country .' But he, answering nothing to Baldwin, stared yet more fixedly 
upon the Emperor, and muttered to himself something in his own dialect , 
which, being interpreted, was to this effect — ‘ Behold, what rustic fellow 
[xw^ttjs] is this , to be seated alone while such leaders stand around him ? * 
The movement of his lips did not escape the Emperor, who called to him one 
that understood the Latin dialect , and inquired what words the man had 
spoken. When he heard them, the Emperor said nothing to the other 
Latins, but kept the thing to himself When, however, the business was all 
over, he called near to him by himself that swelling and shameless Latin 
[vi/zTjAo^pava eiceivov Kai ayat^T?,^ and asked of him who he was, of what lineage, 
and from what region he had come. 1 I am a Frank,' said he, ‘ of pure 
blood, of the Nobles. One thing I know, that where three roads meet in the 
place from which I came, there is an ancient church, in which whosoever has 
the desire to measure himself against another in single combat, prays God to 
help him therein, and afterwards abides the coming of one willing to encoun 
ter him. At that spot long time did I remain, but the man bold enough to 


ADVERTISEMENT TO COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


ii 


stand against me I found not I Hearing these words , the Emperor said , 'If 
hitherto thou has sought battles in vain , the time is at hand which will fur- 
nish thee with abundance of them. And I advise thee to place thyself 
neither before the phalanx , nor in its rear , but to stand fast in the midst 
of thy fellow-soldiers ; for of old time I am well acquainted with the war- 
fare of the Turks.' With such advice he dismissed not only this man , but 
the rest of those who were about to depart on that expedition — Alexiad, 
Book x. pp. 237, 238. 

Ducange , as is mentioned in the novel , identifies the church , thus de- 
scribed by the crusader , with that of Our Lady of Soissons, of which a 
French poet of the days of Louis VII. says — 

Veiller y vont encore li Pelerin 

Cil qui bcUaille veulent fere et fournir. 

Ducange in Alexiad,/. 86. 

The Princess Anna Comnena , it may be proper to observe , was born on 
the 1st of December , A.D. 1083, and was consequently in her fifteenth year 
when the chiefs of the first crusade made their appearance in her father's 
court. Even then , however , it is not improbable that she might have been 
the wife of Nicephorus Bryennius , whom , many years after his death , she 
speaks of hi her history as tov e^ov Kai crapa, and in other terms equally affec- 
tionate. The bitterness with which she uniformly mentions Bohemond, 
Count of Tarentum , afterwards Prince of Antioch , has, however , been 
ascribed to a disappointment in love ; and on one remarkable occasion the 
Princess certainly expressed great contempt of her husband. I am aware 
of no other authorities for the liberties taken with this lady's conjugal char- 
acter in the novel. 

Her husband, Nicephorus Bryennius , was the grandson of the person of 
that name , who figures in history as the rival , in a contest for the imperial 
throne , of Nicephorus Botoniates. He was, on his marriage with Anna 
Comnena , invested with the rank of Panhypersebastos, or Omnium Augus* 
tissimus ; but Alexius deeply offended kirn by afterwards recognizing the 
superior and simpler dignity of a Sebastos. His eminent qualities, 
both in peace and war, are acknowledged by Gibbon ; and he has left us 
four books of Memoirs, detailing the early part of his father-in-law's his- 
tory, and valuable as being the work of an eye-witness of the most important 
events which he describes. Anna Comnena appears to have considered it 
her duty to take up the task which her husband had not lived to complete ; 
and hence the Alexiad — certainly, with all its defects, the first historical 
work that has as yet proceeded from a female pen. 

“ The life of the Emperor Alexius " ( says Gibbon ), “ has been delineated 
by the pen of a favorite daughter , who was inspired by tender regard for his 
person , and a laudable zeal to perpetuate his virtues. Conscious of thejusi 


12 


WA VERLE Y NO VELS. 


suspicion of her readers , the Princess repeatedly protests that , besides het 
personal knowledge , she had searched the discourses and writings of tht 
most respectable veterans ; and that , after an interval of thirty years, for* 
gotten by and forgetful of the world , her mournful solitude was inaccessible 
to hope and fear ; that truth , the naked perfect truth , was more dear than 
the memory of her parent. Yet , instead of the simplicity of style and nar- 
rative which wins our belief, an elaborate affectation of rhetoric and science 
betrays in every page the vanity of a female author. The genuine charac- 
ter of Alexius is lost in a vague constellation of virtues ; and the perpetual 
strain of panegyric and apology awakens our jealousy, to question the ver- 
acity of the historian, and the merit of her hero. We cannot, however % 
refuse her judicious and important remark, that the disorders of the times 
were the misfortunes and the glory of Alexius ; and that every calamity 
which can afflict a declining empire was accumulated on his reign by the 
justice of Heaven and the vices of his predecessors. In the east the victori- 
ous Turks had spread, from Persia to the Hellespont, the reign of the Koran 
and the Crescent ; the west was invaded by the adventurous valor of the 
Normans ; and, in the moments of peace, the Danube poured forth new 
swarms, who had gained in the science of war what they had lost in the 
ferociousness of their manners. The sea was not less hostile than the land ; 
and while the frontiers were assaulted by an open enemy , the palace was 
distracted with secret conspiracy and treason. 

“ On a sudden, the banner of the Cross was displayed by the Latins ; 
Europe was precipitated on Asia ; and Constantinople had almost been 
swept away by this impetuous deluge. In the tempest Alexius steered the 
Imperial vessel with dexterity and courage. At the head of his armies , he 
was bold in action, skilful in stratagem, patient of fatigue, ready to improve 
his advantages, and rising from his defeats with inexhaustible vigor. The 
discipline of the camp was reversed, and a new generation of men and 
soldiers was created by the precepts and example of their leader. In his 
intercourse with the Latins, Alexius was patient and artful ; his discern- 
ing eye pervaded the new system of an unknown world. 

“ The increase of the male and female branches of his family adorned 
the throne, and secured the succession ; but their princely luxury and pride 
offended the patricians, exhausted the revenue, and insulted the misery oj 
the people Anna is a faithful witness that his happiness was destroyed and 
his health broken by the cares of a public life; the patience of Constantinople 
was fatigued by the length and severity of his reign ; and before Alexius 
expired, he had lost the love and reverence of his subjects. The clergy could 
not forgive his application of the sacred riches to the defence of the state • 
but they applauded his theological learning and ardent zeal for the orthodox 
faith,, which he defended with his tongue , his pen, and his sword. Even 
the sincerity of his moral and religious virtues was suspected by the persons 
Who had passed their lives in his confidence. In his last hours , when he 


ADVERTISEMENT TO COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 13 

was pressed by his wife Irene to alter the succession , he raised his head, and 
breathed a pious ejaculation on the vanity of the world. The indignant 
reply of the Empress may be inscribed as an epitaph on his tomb — ‘ You die 
as you have lived — a hypocrite .' 

“ It was the wish of Irene to supplant the eldest of her sons in favor of 
her daughter , the Princess Anna , whose philosophy would not have refused 
the weight of a diadem. But the order of male succession was asserted by 
the friends of their country ; the lawful heir drew the royal signet from the 
finger of his insensible or conscious father, and the empire obeyed the mas- 
ter of the palace. Anna Comnena was stimulated by ambition and revenge 
to conspire against the life of her brother ; and when the design was pre- 
vented by the fears or scruples of her husband, she passionately exclaimed 
that nature had mistaken the two sexes, and had endowed Bryennius with 
the soul of a woman. After the discovery of her treason , the life and for- 
tune of Anna were justly forfeited to the laws. Her life was spared by the 
clemency of the Emperor, but he visited the pomp and treasures of her pal- 
ace, and bestozued the rich confiscation on the most deserving of his friends .” 
—History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap, xlviii. 

The year of Anna's death is nozuhere recorded. She appears to have 
written the Alexiad in a convent ; and to have spent nearly thirty years in 
this retirement before her book was published. 

For accurate particulars of the public events touched on in Robert of 
Paris, the reader is referred to the above quoted author , chapters xlviii. 
xlix. and and to the first volume of Mills' History of the Crusades.* 

7 : G. L.X 

London, i st March , 1833. 

* [The article ‘ • Chivalry ” in the Encyclopedia Britannica, written by Scott, will 
also be found to contain an interesting allusion to the chief incident in Chapter ix. of the 
novel.] 

t [John Gibson Lockhart — Sir Walter’s literary executor.] 


INTR ODUCTOR Y ADDRESS 


JEDEDIAH CLEISHB O THAM, AM., 

TO THE LOVING READER WISHETH HEALTH AND PROSPERITY. 

/ T would ill become me, whose name has been spread abroad by those, formci 
collections bearing this title of “ Tales of my Landlord and who have , by 
the candid voice of a numerous crowd of readers, been taught to think that 1 
merit not the empty fame alone , but also the more substantial rewards , of 
successful pencraft — it would , I say , ill become me to suffer this my youngest 
literary babe , and , probably at the same time , the last child of mine old age , 
to pass into the world without some such modest apology for its defects , as it 
has been my custom to put forth on preceding occasions of the like 7iature. 
The world has been sufficiently instructed, of a truth, that I am not indi- 
vidually the person to whom is to be ascribed the actual inventing or design • 
ing of the scheme upon xvhich these Tales, which men have foicnd so pleas- 
ing, were originally constructed, as also that neither am I the actual 
workman , who, furnished by a skilful architect with an accurate plan , in- 
cluding elevations and directiojis , both general and particular , has from 
thence toiled to bring forth and complete the intended shape and proportion 
of each division of the edifice. Nevertheless, I have been indisputably the 
min , who, in placing my name at the head of the undertaking, have ren- 
dered myself mainly and principally responsible for its general success. 
When a ship of war goeth forth to battle with her crew, consisting of sundry 
foremast men and various officers , such subordinate persons are not said to 
gain or lose the vessel which they have manned or attacked ( although each 
was nalheless sufficiently active in his own department ) ; but it is forthwith 
bruited and noised abroad, without further phrase , that Captain Jedediah 
Cleishbotham hath lost such a seventy four, or won that which, by the united 
exertions of all thereto pertaining, is taken from the enemy In the same 
manner , shame and sorrow it were, if /, the voluntary Captain and founder 
of these adventures , after having upon three divers occasions assumed to my- 
self the emolument and reputation thereof, should now withdraw mvsetf 
from the risks of failure proper to this fourth and last out-going. No ! 1 

(14 


WA VERLE V NO VELS. 


*5 

will rather address my associates in this bottom with the constant spirit of 
Matthew Prior's heroine ; 

“ Did I but purpose to embark with thee 
On the smooth surface of some summer sea , 

But would jot sake the waves , and make the shore , 

When the winds whistle , and the billows roar ? ” 

As little , nevertheless , would it become my years and station not to admit 
without cavil certain errors which may justly be pointed out in these con- 
cluding “ Tales of my Landlord ," — the last , and it is manifest , never care- 
fully reviscu or corrected handiwork , of Mr. Peter Pattieson, now no more ; 
the same worthy young man so repeatedly mentioned in these Introductory 
Essays, and never without that tribute to his good sense and talents, nay , 
even genius, which his contributiotis to this my undertaking fairly entitled 
him to claim at the hands of his surviving friend and patron . These 
pages, I have said, were the ultimus labor of mine ingenious assistant ; but 
I say not, as the great Dr. Pitcairn of his hero — ultimus atque optimus. 
Alas / even the giddiness attendant on a journey on this Manchester rail- 
road is not so perilous to the nerves, as that too frequent exercise in the 
merry-go-round of the ideal world, whereof the tendency to render the fancy 
confused, and the judgment inert, hath in all ages been noted, not only by the 
erudite of the earth, but even by many of the thick-witted Ofelli themselves ; 
whether the rapid pace at which the fancy moveth in such excitations, where 
the wish of the penman is to him like Prince Houssain's tapestry, in the 
Eastern fable , be the chief source of peril — or whether, without reference to 
this wearing speed f movement, the dwelling habitually in those realms of 
imagination, be as little suited for a man's intellect, as to breathe for any 
considerable space “ the difficult air of the mountain top " is to the physical 
structure of his outward frame— this question belongeth not to me ; but 
certain it is, that we often discover in the works of the foremost of this order 
of men , marks of bewilderment and confusion, such as do not so frequently 
occur in those of persons to whom nature hath conceded fancy weaker of 
wing, or less ambitious hi flight. 

It is affecting to see the great Miguel Cervantes himself, even like the 
sons of meaner men, defending himself against the critics of the day, who 
assailed him upon stich little discrepancies and inaccuracies as are apt to 
cloud the progress even of a mind like his, when the evening is closing around 
it, “ It is quite a common thing f says Don Quixote, “ for men who have 
gained a very great reputation by their writings before they were printed, 
quite to lose it afterwards, or, at least , the greater parti ' — “ The reason is 
plain," answers the Bachelor Carrasco; “ their faults are more easily dis- 
covered after the books are printed, as being then more read, and more nar- 
rowly examined, especially if the author has been much cried up before, for 


INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 


16 

then the severity of the scrutiny is sure to he the greater. Those who have 
raised themselves a name by their own ingenuity , great poets and celebrated 
historians, are commonly, if not always, envied by a set of ??ien who delight 
in censuring phe writings of others , though they could never produce any of 
their own ." — “ That is no wonder ," quoth Don Quixote ; “ there are many 
divines that would make but very dull preachers, and yet are quick enough 
at finding faults and superfluities in other mens sermons — '''‘All this is 
true," says Carrasco , “ and therefore I could wish such.censurers would be 
more merciful and less scrupulous , and not dwell ungenerously upon small 
spots that are in a manner but so many atoms on the face of the clear sun 
they murmur at. If aliquando dormitat Homerus, let them consider how 
many nights he kept himself awake to bring his noble works to light as little 
darkened with defects as might be. But, indeed, it may many times hap- 
pen, that what is censured for a fault, is rather an ornament, as moles often 
add to the beatity of a face. When all is said, he that publishes a book runs 
a great risk, since nothing can be so unlikely as that he should have com- 
posed one capable of securing the approbation of every reader." — “Sure,” 
says Don Quixote, “that which treats of me can have pleased but few ? 
“Quite the contrary ,” says Carrasco ; “ for as infinitus est numerus stulto- 
rum, so a?t infinite number have admired your history. Only some there 
are who have taxed the author with want of memory or sincerity , because 
he forgot to give an account who it was that stole Sane ho* s Dapple, for that 
particidar is not mentioned there, only we find, by the story, that it was 
stolen; and yet, by and by, we find him riding the same ass again , without 
any previous light given us into the matter. Then they ’ say that the author 
forgot to t.ll the reader what Sancho did with the hundred pieces of gold he 
found in the portmanteau in the Sierra Morena,for there is not a word 
said of them more ; and many people have a great mind to know what he 
did with them , and how he spent them ; which is one of the most material 
points in which the work is defective .” 

How amusingly Sancho is made to clear up the obscurities thus alluded 
to by the Bachelor Carrasco — no reader can have forgotten ; but there re- 
mained enough of similar lacunae, inadvertencies, and mistakes, to exercise 
the ingenuity of those Spanish critics, who were too wise in their own con- 
ceit to profit by the good-natured and modest apology of this immortal 
jiuthor. 

There can be no doubt, that if Cervantes had deigned to use it, he might 
have pleaded also the apology of indifferent health, tinder which he certainly 
labored while finishing the second part of“ Don Quixote." It must be too 
obvious that the intervals of such a malady as theti affected Cervantes , could 
not be the most favorable in the world for revising lighter compositions, and 
correcting, at least, those grosser errors and imperfections which each author 
should, if it were but for shame's sake , remove from his work, before bring- 


WA VERLE Y NO VELS. 


1 7 


ing it forth into the broad light of day, where they will never fail to be dis - 
tinctly seen, nor lack ingenious persons, who will be too happy in discharge 
ing the office of pointing them out. 

It is more than time to explain with what purpose we have called thus 
fully to memory the many venial errors of the inimitable Cervantes , and 
those passages in which he has rather defied his adversaries than pleaded 
his own justification ; for I suppose it will be readily granted, that the difi 
ference is too wide betwixt that great wit of Spain and ourselves, to permit 
us to use a buckler which was rendered sufficiently formidable only by the 
strenuous hand in which it was placed. 

The history of my first publications is sufficiently well known. Nor did 
I relinquish the purpose of concluding these “ Tales of my Landlord ," which 
had been so remarkably fortunate ; but Death, which steals upon us all 
with an inaudible foot, cut short the ingenious young man to whose memory 
I composed that inscription, and erected , at my own charge, that monument 
which protects his remains, by the side of the river Gander , which he has 
contributed so much to render immortal, and in a place of his own selection, 
not very distant from the school under my care.* In a word, the ingenious 
Mr. Pattieson was removed from his place. 

Nor did I confine my care to his posthumous fame alone , but carefully 
inventoried and preserved the effects which he left behind him, namely, the 
contents of his small wardrobe, and a number of printed books of somewhat 
more consequence , together with certain wofully blurred manuscripts , dis- 
covered in his repository. On looking these over , I found them to contain 
two Tales called “Count Robert of Paris ” and “Castle Dangerous but 
was seriously disappointed to perceive that they were by no means in that 
state of correctness, which would induce an experienced person to pronounce 
any writing, in the technical language of book-craft, “prepared for press .” 
There were not only hiatus valde deflendi, but even grievous inconsistencies, 
and other mistakes, which the penman's leisurely revision, had he been 
spared to bestow it, would doubtless have cleared away. After a considerate 
perusal, I no question flattered myself that these manuscripts, with all their 
faults, contained here and there passages, which seemed plainly to intimate 
that severe indisposition had been unable to extinguish altogether the bril- 
liancy of that fancy which the world had been pleased to acknowledge in the 
creations of Old Mortality, the Bride of Lammermoor, and others of these 
narratives. But I, nevertheless, threw the manuscripts into my drawer, 
resolving not to think of committing them to the Ballantynian ordeal , until 
I could either obtain the assistance of some capable person to supply deficien- 
cies, and correct errors, so as they might face the public with credit, or per-’ 
haps numerous and more serious avocations might permit me to dedicate my 
own time and labor to that task. 

* See Old Mortality. 158. 

2 


i8 


INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS 


While I was in this uncertainty , I had a visit from a sti xnger, who was 
announced as a ysung gentleman desirous of speaking with me on particular 
business. I immediately augured the accession of a new boarder, but was at 
once checked by observing that the outward man of . he stranger was , in a 
most remarkable degree , what mine host of the Sir W. Uiam Wallace, in his 
phraseology , calls seedy. His black cloak had seen see nee ; the waistcoat of 
gray plaid bore yet stronger marks of having encountered more than one 
campaign ; his third piece of dress was an absolute veteran compared to the 
others ; his shoes were so loaded with mud as showed his journey must have 
been pedestrian ; and a grey maud, which fluttered around his wasted 
limbs , completed such an equipment as, since Juvenal's days, has been the 
livery of the poor scholar. I therefore concluded that I beheld a candidate 
for the vacant office of usher, and prepared to listen to his proposals with 
the dignity becoming my station ; but what was my surprise when I found 
I had before me, in this rusty student, no less a man than Paul , the brother 
of Peter Pattieson, come to gather in his brother's succession, and possessed , 
it seemed, with no small idea of the value of that part of it which consisted 
in the productions of his pen ! 

By the rapid study I made of him , this Paul was a sharp lad, imbued 
with some tincture of letters, like his regretted brother, but totally destitute 
of those amiable qualities which had often induced me to say within myself 
that Peter was , like the famous John Gay , — 

“In wit a man , simplicity a child.” 

He set little by the legacy of my deceased assistant's wardrobe, nor did 
the books hold much greater value in his eyes ; but he peremptorily de- 
manded to be put in possession of the manuscripts, alleging , with obstinacy, 
that no definite bargain had been completed between his late brother and me, 
and at length produced the opinion to that effect of a writer, or man of busi- 
ness — a class of persons with whom I have always chosen to have as little 
concern as possible. 

But / had one defence left , which came to my aid, tanquam deus ex 
machina. This rapacious Paul Pattieson could not pretend to wrest the 
disputed manuscripts out of my possession, unless upon repayment of a con- 
siderable sum of money, which I had advanced from time to time to the de- 
ceased Peter, and particularly to purchase a small annuity for his aged 
mother. These advances, with the charges for the funeral and other ex- 
penses, amounted to a considerable sum, which the poverty -struck student 
and his acute legal adviser equally foresaw great difficulty in liquidating. 
The said Mr. Paul Pattieson, therefore, listened to a suggestion, which I 
dropped as if by accident, that if he thought himself capable of filling his 
brother' s place of carrying the work through the press, I would make him 
welcome to bed and board within my mansion while he was thus engaged. 


WA VERLE Y NO VELS. 


*9 


only requiring his occasional assistance at hearing the more advanced 
scholars. This seemed to promise a close of our dispute, alike satisfactory 
to all parties , and the first act of Paul was to draw on me for a roicnd sum, 
under pretence that his wardrobe must be wholly refitted. To this I made 
no objection , though it certainly showed like vanity to purchase garments in 
the extremity of the mode, when not only great part of the defunct's habili- 
ments were very fit for a twelvemonth' s use , but as I myself had been but 
yesterday , as it were , equipped in a becoming new stand of black clothes , Mr. 
Pattieson would have been welcome to the use of such of my quondam rai- 
ment as he thought suitable , as indeed had always been the case with hi* 
deceased brother. 

The school , I must needs say , came tolerably on. My youngster was 
very smart , and seemed to be so active in his duty of usher, if I may so speak , 
that he even overdid his part therein , and I began to feel myself a cipher in 
my own school. 

I comforted myself with the belief that the publication was advancing as 
fast as I could desire. On this subject, Paul Pattieson, like ancient Pistol, 
“ talked bold words at the bridge and that not only at our house, but in 
the society of our neighbors , amongst whom, instead of imitating the retired 
and monastic manner of his brother deceased, he became a gay visitor, and 
such a reveller, that i?i process of time he was observed to vilipend the 
modest fare which had at first been esteetned a banquet by his hungry appe- 
tite, and thereby highly displeased my wife, who, with justice , applauds her- 
self for the plentiful, cleanly, and healthy victuals, wherewith she maintains 
her ushers and boarders. 

Upon the whole, 1 7-ather hoped than entertained a sincere confidence 
that all was going on well, and was in that unpleasant state of mind which 
precedes the opeti breach between two associates who have been long jealous of 
each other, but are as yet deterred by a sense of mutual interest fro?n coming 
to an open rupture. 

The first thing which alarmed me was a rumor in the village that Paul 
Pattieson intended, iti some little space, to undertake a voyage to the Conti- 
nent — on account of his health, as was pretended, but, as the same report 
averred, much more with the view of gratifying the curiosity which his 
perusal of the classics had mipressed upon him that* for any other purpose. 
I was, I say, rather alarmed at this susurrus, and began to reflect that the 
retirement of Mr. Pattieson, unless his loss could be supplied in good time, 
was like to be a blow to the establishment ; for, in truth, this Paul had a 
winning way with the boys, especially those who were gentle-tempered ; so 
that I must confess my doubts, whether, in certain respects, I myself could 
have fully supplied his place in the school, with all my authority and experi- 
ence. My wife, jealous, as became her station, of Mr. Patties on's intentions, 
advised me to take the matter up immediately, and go to the bottom at once ; 
and, indeed, I had always found that way answered best with my boys. 


20 


INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 


Mrs. Cleishbotham was not long before renewing the subject ; for, liki 
most of the race of Xantippe {though my helpmate is a well-spoken woman), 
she loves to thrust in her oar where she is not able to pull it to purpose. 

“ You are a sharp-witted man , Air. Cleishbotham ,” would she observe , “and 
a learned man , Mr. Cleishbotham — and the schoolmaster of Gandercleuch, 
Mr. Cleishbotham , which is saying all in one word ; but many a man 
almost as great as yourself has lost the saddle by suffering an inferior to get 
up behind him ; and though , with the world , Mr. Cleishbotham , you have 
the ?iame of doing everything , both in directing the school and in this new 
profitable book line which you have taken up, yet it begins to be the common 
talk of Gandercleuch, both up the water and down the water, that the usher 
both writes the dominie’s books, and teaches the dominie’s school. Ay, ay, 
ask maid, wife, or widow, and she'll tell ye, the least gaitling among them 
all comes to Paul Pattieson with his lesson as naturally as they come to me 
for their four-hours, puir things ; and never ane thinks of applying to you 
about a kittle turn , or a crabbed word, or about onything else, unless it were 
for licet exire, or the mending of an auld pen.” 

Now, this address assailed me on a summer evening, when I was whil- 
ing away my leisure hours with the end of a cutty pipe, and indulging in 
such bland imaginations as the Nicotian weed is wont to produce, more 
especially in the case of studious persons, devoted musis severioribus. I was 
naturally loth to leave my misty sanctuary ; and endeavored to silence the 
clamor of Airs. Cleishbotham’ s tongue, which has something in it peculiarly 
shrill and penetrating. “ Woman,” said I with a tone of domestic authority 
befitting the occasion, “res tuas agas; — mind your washings and your 
wringings, your stuffings and your physicking, or whatever concerns the 
outward person of the pupils, and leave the progress of their education to 
my usher, Paul Pattieson , and myself.” 

“ I am glad to see,” added the accursed woman {that I should say so !) 
“ that ye have the grace to name him foremost, for there is little doubt, that 
he ranks first of the troop , if he wad but hear what the neighbors speak — or 
whisper.” 

“ What do they whisper, thou sworn sister of the Eumenides ? ” cried I , — 
the irritating oestrum of the woman's objurgation totally counterbalancing 
the sedative effects both of pipe and pot. 

“ Whisper ? ” resumed she in her shrillest note — “ why, they whisper loud 
enough for me at least to hear them , that the school-master of Gandercleuch 
is turned a doited auld woman , and spends all his time in tippling strong 
drink with the keeper of the public-house, and leaves school and bookmaking , 
and a’ the rest o’t, to the care of Jus usher ; and, also, the wives in Gander- 
clench say, that you have engaged Paul Pattieson to write a new book, which 
is to beat a' the lave that gaed afore it ; and to show what a sair lift you 
have o’ the job, you didna sae muckle as ken the name o' t— no, nor whether 
it was to be about some Heathen Greek, or the Black Douglas.” 


INTROD UCTOR Y ADDRESS. 


21 


This was said zvith such bitterness that it penetrated to the very quick , 
and I hurled the poor old pipe , like one of Homer’s spears , not in the face 
of my provoking helpmate , though the temptation was strong , but into the 
river Gander , which, as is now well known to tourists from the uttermost 
parts of the earth, pursues its quiet meanders beneath the bank on which the 
schoolhouse is pleasantly situated ; and, starting up, fixed on my head the 
cocked hat [the pride of Messrs. Grieve and Scott’s repository ),* and plung- 
ing into the valley of the brook, pursued my way upwards, the voice of Mrs. 
Cleishbotham accompanying me in my retreat with something like the 
angry scream of triumph with which the brood-goose pursues the flight of 
some unmannerly cur or idle boy who has intruded upon her premises, and 
fled before her. Indeed, so great was the influence of this clamor of scorn 
and wrath which hung upon my rear, that while it rung in my ears, I was 
so moved that I instinctively tucked the skirts of my black coat under my 
arm, as if I had been in actual danger of being seized on by the grasp of the 
pursuing enemy. Nor was it till I had almost reached the well-known 
burial-place, in which it was Peter Pattieson’s hap to meet the far-famed 
personage called Old Mortality, that I made a halt for the purpose of com- 
posing my perturbed spirits, and considering what was to be done ; for as 
yet my mind was agitated by a chaos of passions, of which anger was pre- 
dominant ; and for what reason, or against whom, I entertained such 
tumultuous displeasure, it was not easy for me to determine. 

Nevertheless, having settled my cocked hat with becoming accuracy on my 
well-powdered wig, and suffered it to remain uplifted for a moment to cool 
my flushed brow — having, moreover , re-adjusted and shaken to rights the 
skirts cf my black coat, I came into case to answer to my own questions , 
which, till these manoeuvres had been sedately accomplished, I might have 
asked myself in vain. 

In the first place, therefore, to use the phrase of Mr. Docket, the writer 
[that is, the attorney ) of our village of Gandercleuch, I became satisfied that 
my anger was directed against all and sundry, or, in law Latin, contra 
omnes mortales, and more particularly against the neighborhood of Gan- 
dercleuch, for circulating reports to the prejudice of my literary talents, as 
well as my accomplishments as a pedagogue, and transferring the fame 
thereof to ??iine own usher. Secondly, against my spouse, Dorothea Cleish- 
botham, for transferring the said calumnious reports to my ears in a pre • 
rupt and unseemly manner, and without due respect either to the language 
which she made use of, or the person to whom she spoke, — treating affairs in 
which I was so intimately concerned as if they were proper subjects for jest 
among gossips at a christening, where the womankind claim the privilege of 
worshipping the Bona Dea according to their secret female rites. 

Thirdly, I became clear that I was entitled to respond to any whom it 


* [A well-known firm of hatters in Edinburgh.] 


22 


WA VERLE Y NO VELS. 


concerned to inquire , that my wrath was kindled against Paul Pattieson, 
my usher, for giving occasion both for the neighbors of Gander cleuch enter- 
taining such opinions , and for Mrs. Cleishbotham disrespectfully urging 
them to my face , since neither circumstance could have existed , without he 
had put foHh sinful misrepresentations of transactions, private and confi- 
dential, and of 'which I had myself entirely refrained from dropping any 
the least hint to any third person. 

This arrangement of my ideas having contributed to soothe the stormy 
atmosphere of which they had been the offspring , gave reason a time to pre- 
dominate, and to ask m •, with her calm but clear voice, whether , under all 
the circumstances, I did well to nourish so indiscriminate an indignation? 
In fine, on closer examination, the various splenetic thoughts I had been in- 
dulging against other parties, began to be merged in that resentment against 
my perfidious usher, which, like the serpent of Moses, swallowed up all 
subordinate objects of displeasure. . To put myself at open feud with the 
whole of my neighbors, unless I had been certain of some effectual mode of 
avenging myself upon them, would have been an undertaking too weighty 
for my means, and not unlikely , if rashly grappled withal, to end in my 
ruin. To make a public quarrel with my wife, on such an account as her 
opinion of my literary accomplishments, would sound ridiculous: and, be- 
sides, Mrs. C. was sure to have all the women on her side, who would 
represent her as a wife persecuted by her husband for offering him good ad- 
vice, and urging it upon him with only too enthusiastic sincerity. 

There remained Paul Pattieson, undoubtedly, the most natural and 
proper object of my indignation , since I might be said to have him in my 
own power, and might punish him by dismissal at my pleasure. Yet even 
vindictive proceedings against the said Paul, however easy to be enforced, 
might be productive of serious consequences to my own purse ; and I began 
to reflect, with anxiety, that in this world it is not often that the gratifica- 
tion of our angry passions lies in the same road with the advancement of 
our interest, and that the wise man, the vere sapiens, seldom hesitates 
which of these two he ought to prefer. 

I recollected also that I was quite uncertain how far the present usher 
had really been guilty of the foul acts of assumption charged against him. 

In a word, I began to perceive that it would be no light matter at once , 
and without maturer perpending of sundry collateral punctiuncula, to 
break up a joint-stock adventure, or society , as civilians term it, which, if 
profitable to him, had at least promised to be no less so to me, established in 
years and learning and reputation so much his superior. Moved by which , 
and other the like considerations , I resolved to proceed with becoming cau- 
tion on the occasion, and not, by stating my causes of complaint too hastily 
in the outset, exasperate into a positive breach what might only prove some 
small misunderstanding, easily explained or apologized for, and which, like 
a leak in a new vessel, being once discovered and carefully stopped , renders 
the vessel but more seaworthy than it was before. 


INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 


2 3 


About the time that I had adopted this healing resolution, I reached the 
ipot where the almost perpendicular face of a steep hill seems to terminate 
the valley , or at least divides it into two dells, each serving as a cradle to its 
o wn mountain-stream , the Gruffquack, namely , and the shallower, but 
more noisy, Gusedub, on the left hand, which, at their union, form the Gan- 
der, properly so called. Each of these little valleys has a walk winding up 
to its recesses, rendered more easy by the labors of the poor during the late 
hard season, and one of which bears the name of Pattieson' s path, while the 
other had been kindly consecrated to my own memory, by the title of the 
Dominie's Daidling-bit. Here I made certain to meet my associate, Paid 
Pattieson,for by one or other of these roads he was wont to return to my 
house of an evening , after his lengthened rambles. 

Nor was it long before I espied him descending the Gusedub by that tor- 
tuous path, marking so strongly the character of a Scottish glen. He was 
easily distinguished, indeed, at some distance, by his jaunty swagger, in 
which he presented to you the flat of his leg, like the manly knave of clubs, 
apparently with the most perfect contentment, not only with his leg and boot, 
but with every part of his outward man, and the whole fashion of his gar- 
ments, and , one would almost have thought , the contents of his pockets. 

In this, his wonted guise, he approached me, where I was seated near 
the meeting of the waters, and I could not but discern, that his first impulse 
was to pass me without any prolonged or formal greeting. But as that 
woidd not have been decent, considering the terms on which we stood, he 
seemed to adopt, on reflection, a course directly opposite ; bustled up to me 
with an air of alacrity , and, I may add, impudence ; and hastened at once 
into the middle of the important affairs which it had been my purpose to 
bring wider discussion in a manner more becoming their gravity. “ I am 
glad to see you, Mr. Cleishbotham said he, with an inimitable mixture of 
confusion and effrontery ; “ the most wonderful news which has been heard 
in the literary world in my time— all Gandercleuch rings with it— they 
positively speak of nothing else, from Miss Buskbody's youngest apprentice 
to the minister himself, and ask each other in amazement, whether the 
tidings are true or false — to be sure they are of an astounding complexion, 
especially to you and me.” 

“ Mr. Pattieson said I, “ I am quite at a loss to guess at your mean- 
ing. Davus sum, non CEdipus — I am Jedediah Cleishbotham, Schoolmas- 
ter of the parish of Gandercleuch, no conjurer, and neither reader of 
riddles, nor expounder of enigmata.” 

“ Well? replied Paul Pattieson, “ Mr. Jedediah Cleishbotham, School- 
master of the parish of Gandercleuch, and so forth, all I have to inform you 
is, that our hopeful scheme is entirely blown up. The tales, on publishing 
which we reckoned with so much confidence, have already been printed ; they 
are abroad, aver all America, and the British papers are clamorous ” 

/ received this news with the same equanimity with which I should 


WA VERLE Y NO VELS. 


24 

have accepted a blow addressed to my stomach by a modern gladiator , With 
the full energy of his fist. “ If this be correct information, , Mr. Pattieson, 
said /, “ I must of necessity suspect you to be the person who have supplied 
the foreign press with the copy which the printers have thus made an un- 
scrupulous use of without respect to the rights of the undeniable proprietors 
of the manuscripts ; and I request to know whether this American produc- 
tion embraces the alterations which you as well as I judged necessary , before 
the work could be fitted to meet the public eye ? " To this my gentleman 
saw it necessary to make a direct answer, for my manner was impressive, 
and my tone decisive. His native audacity enabled him , however , to keep 
his ground, and he answered with firmness 

“ Mr. Cleishbotham, in the first place, these manuscripts, over which you 
claim a very doubtful right, were never given to anyone by me, and must 
have been sent to America either by yourself, or by some one of the various 
gentlemen to whom, I am well aware, you have afforded opportunities of 

perusing my brother's MS. remains." 

“ Mr. Pattieson ," I replied, “ I beg to remind you that it never could be 
my intention, either by my own hands, or through those of another, to remit 
these manuscripts to the press, until, by the alterations which I meditated, 
and which you yourself engaged to make, they were rendered fit for public 
perusal." 

Mr. Pattieson answered me with much heat : — “ Sir, would have you 
to know that if I accepted your paltry offer, it was with less regard to its 
amount, than to the honor and literary fame of my late brother. I foresaw 
that, if I declined it, you would not hesitate to throw the task into incapable 
hands , or, perhaps, have taken it upon yourself, the most unfit of all men to 
tamper with the works of departed genius , and that, God willing , I was de- 
termined to prevent — but the justice of Heaven has taken the matter into its 
own hands. Peter Pattieson' s last labors shall now go down to posterity un- 
scathed by the scalping knife of alteration, in the hands of a false friend — 
shame on the thought that the unnatural weapon could ever be wielded by the 
hand of a brother l " 

I heard this speech not without a species of vertigo or dizziness in my 
head, which would probably have struck me lifeless at his feet, had not a 
thought like that of the old ballad — 

“ Earl Percy sees my fall," 

called to my recollection, that I should only afford an additional triumph by 
giving way to my feelings in the presence of Mr. Paul Pattieson , who, I 
could not doubt, must be more or less directly at the bottom of the Transat- 
lantic publication, and had in one way or another found his own interest in 
that nefarious transaction. 

To get quit of his odious presence I bid him an unceremonious good- 
night, and marched down the glen with the air not of one who has parted 


INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS. 


2S 

with a friend , hut who rather has shaken off an intrusive companion. On 
the road I pondered the whole matter over with an anxiety which did not in 
the smallest degree tend to relieve me. Had I felt adequate to the exertion , 
I might, of course, have supplanted this spurious edition [of which the liter- 
ary gazettes are already doling out copious specimens ) by introducing into a 
copy , to be instantly published at Edinburgh , adequate correction of the vari- 
ous inconsistencies and imperfections which have already been alluded to. 
I remember the easy victory of the real second part of these “ Tales of my 
Landlord ” over the performance sent forth by an interloper under the same 
title ; and why should not the same triumph be repeated now ? There 
would, in short, have been a pride of talent in this manner of avenging my- 
self, which would have been justifiable in the case of an injured man ; bu 
the state of my htalth has for some time been such as to render any attempt 
of this nature in every way imprudent. 

Under such circtimstances, the last “ Remains ” of Peter Pattieson must 
even be accepted, as they were left in his desk ; and I humbly retire in the 
hope that, such as they are, they may receive the indulgence of those who 
have ever been but too merciful to the productions of his pen , and in all re- 
spects to the courteous reader's obliged servant , 

JC. 


Gandercleuch, 15 th Oct. 1831 . 



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CHAPTER FIRST. 

Leontius. That power that kindly spread* 

The clouds, a signal of impending showers, 

To warn the wandering linnet to the shade. 

Beheld without concern expiring Greece, 

And not one prodigy foretold our fate. 

Demetrius. A thousand horrid prodigies foretold it , 

A feeble government, eluded laws, 

A factious populace, luxurious nobles, 

And all the maladies of sinking states. 

When public villany, too strong for justice, 

Shows his bold front, the harbinger of ruin, 

Can brave Leontius call for airy wonders, 

Which cheats interpret, and which fools regard ? 

Irene, Act I. 

The close observers of vegetable nature have remarked, 
that when a new graft is taken from an aged tree, it possesses 
indeed in exterior form the appearance of a youthful shoot, but 
has in fact attained to the same state of maturity, or even de- 
cay, which has been reached by the parent stem. Hence, it is 
said, arises the general decline and death that about the same 
season is often observed to spread itself through individual 
trees of, some particular species, all of which, deriving their vital 
powers from the parent stock, are therefore incapable of pro- 
tracting their existence longer than it does. 

In the same manner, efforts have been made by the mighty 
of the earth to transplant large cities, states, and communities, 
by one great and sudden exertion, expecting to secure to the 
new capital the wealth, the dignity, the magnificent decorations 
and unlimited extent of the ancient city, which they desire to 
renovate ; while, at the same time, they hope to begin a new 
succession of ages from the date of the new structure, to last, 
they imagine, as long, and with as much fame, as its predeces- 
sor, which the founder hopes his new metropolis may replace 
in all its youthful glories. But nature has her laws, which seem 

C27) 


28 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


to apply to the social, as well as the vegetable system. It ap- 
pears to be a general rule, that what is to last long should be 
slowly matured and gradually improved, while every sudden 
effort, however gigantic, to bring about the speedy execution 
of a plan calculated to endure for ages, is doomed to exhibit 
symptoms of premature decay from its very commencement. 
.Thus, in a beautiful Oriental tale, a dervise explains to the 
Sultan how he had reared the magnificent trees among which 
they walked, by nursing their shoots from the seed ; and the 
prince’s pride is damped when he reflects, that those planta- 
tions, so simply raised, were gathering new vigor from each re- 
turning sun, while his own exhausted cedars, which had been 
transplanted by one violent effort, were drooping their majes- 
tic heads in the valley of Orez.* 

It has been allowed, I believe, by all men of taste, many of 
whom have been late visitants of Constantinople, that if it were 
possible to survey the whole globe with a view to fixing a seat 
of universal empire, all who are capable of making such a 
choice would give their preference to the city of Constantine, 
as including the great recommendations of beauty, wealth, se- 
curity, and eminence. Yet with all these advantages of situa- 
tion and climate, and with all the architectural splendor of its 
churches and halls, its quarries of marble, and its treasure- 
houses of gold, the imperial founder must himself have learned, 
that although he could employ all these rich materials in obe- 
dience to his own wish, that it was the mind of man itself, those 
intellectual faculties refined by the ancients to the highest de- 
gree, which had produced the specimens of talent at which men 
paused and wondered, whether as subjects of art or of moral 
labor. The power of the emperor might indeed strip other 
cities of their statues and their shrines, in order to decorate 
that which he had fixed upon as his new capital ; but the men 
who had performed great actions, and those, almost equally 
esteemed, by whom such deeds were celebrated, in poetry, in 
painting, and in music, had ceased to exist. The nation, 
though still the most civilized in the world, had passed be- 
yond that period of society, when the desire of fair fame is of 
itself the sole or chief motive for the labor of the historian or 
the poet, the painter or the statuary. The slavish and des- 
potic constitution introduced into the empire, had long since 
entirely destroyed that public spirit which animated the free 
history of Rome, leaving nothing but feeble recollections, which 
produced no emulation. 

* Tale of Mirglip the Persian, in the Tales of the Genii, 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


29 

To speak as of an animated substance, if Constantine could 
have regenerated his new metropolis, by transfusing into it the 
vital and vivifying principles of old Rome, — that brilliant 
spark no longer remained for Constantinople to borrow, or for 
Rome to lend. 

In one most important circumstance, the state of the capi- 
tal of Constantine had been totally changed, and unspeakably 
to its advantage. The world was now Christian, and, with the 
Pagan code, had got rid of its load of disgraceful supersti- 
tion. Nor is there the least doubt, that the better faith pro- 
duced its natural and desirable fruits in society, in gradually 
ameliorating the hearts, and taming the passions, of the people. 
But while many of the converts were turning meekly towards 
their new creed, some, in the arrogance of their understanding, 
were limiting the Scriptures by their own devices, and others 
tailed not to make religious character or spiritual rank the 
means of rising to temporal power. Thus it happened at this 
critical period, that the effects of this great change in the re- 
ligion of the country, although producing an immediate harvest, 
as well as sowing much good seed which was to grow hereafter, 
did not, in the fourth century, flourish so as to shed at once 
that predominating influence which its principles might have 
taught men to expect. 

Even the borrowed splendor, in which Constantine decked 
his city, bore in it something which seemed to mark premature 
decay. The imperial founder, in seizing upon the ancient 
statues, pictures, obelisks, and works of art, acknowledged his 
own incapacity to supply their place with the productions of 
later genius ; and when the world, and particularly Rome, was 
plundered to adorn Constantinople, the Emperor, under whom 
the wmrk was carried on, might be compared to a prodigal 
youth, who strips an aged parent of her youthful ornaments, in 
srder to decorate a flaunting paramour, on whose brow all 
must consider them as misplaced. . . . 

Constantinople, therefore, when in 324 it first arose in im- 
perial majesty out of the humble Byzantium, showed, even in 
its birth, and amid its adventitious splendor, as we have al- 
ready said, some intimations of that speedy decay to which the 
whole civilized world, then limited within the Roman empire, 
was internally and imperceptibly tending. Nor was it many 
ages ere these prognostications of declension were fully verified. 

In the )’-ear 1080, Alexius Comnenus * ascended the throne 
of the empire ; that is, he was declared sovereign of Constanti- 

* See Gibbon, chap, xlviii., for the origin and early history of the house of the Comnena 


3 ° 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


nople, its precincts and dependencies ; nor, if he was disposed 
to lead a life of relaxation, would the savage incursions of the 
Scythians or the Hungarians frequently disturb the imperial 
slumbers^ if limited to his own capital. It may be supposed 
that this safety did not extend much farther ; for it is said that 
the Empress Pulcheria had built a church to the Virgin Mary, 
as remote as possible from the gate of the city, to save her de- 
votions from the risk of being interrupted by the hostile yell of 
the barbarians, and the reigning Emperor had constructed a 
palace near the same spot and for the same reason. 

Alexius Comnenus was in the condition of a monarch who 
rather derives consequence from the wealth and importance of 
his predecessors, and the great extent of their original domin- 
ions, than from what remnants of fortune had descended to the 
present generation. This Emperor, except nominally, no more 
ruled over his dismembered provinces, than a half-dead horse 
can exercise power over those limbs, on which the hooded crow 
and the vulture have already begun to settle and select their 
prey. 

In different parts of his territory, different enemies arose, 
who waged successful or dubious war against the Emperor ; 
and, of the numerous nations with whom he was engaged in 
hostilities, whether the Franks from the west, the Turks ad- 
vancing from the east, the Cumans and Scythians pouring their 
barbarous numbers and unceasing storm of arrows from the 
north, and the Saracens, or the tribes into which they were di- 
vided, pressing from the south, there was not one for whom the 
Grecian empire did not spread a tempting repast. Each of 
these various enemies had their own peculiar habits of war, 
and a way of manoeuvring in battle peculiar to themselves. 
But the Roman, as the unfortunate subject of the Greek em- 
pire was still called, was by far the weakest, the most ignorant, 
and most timid, who could be dragged into the field ; and the 
emperor was happy in his own good luck, when he found it im- 
possible to conduct a defensive war on a counterbalancing 
principle, making use of the Scythian to repel the Turk, or of 
both these savage people to drive back the fiery-footed Frank, 
whom Peter the Hermit had, in the time of Alexius, waked to 
double fury, by the powerful influence of the crusades. 

If, therefore, Alexius Comnenus was, during his anxious 
seat upon the throne of the East, reduced to use a base and 
truckling course of policy — if he was sometimes reluctant to 
fight when he had a conscious doubt of the valor of his troops 
— if he commonly employed cunning and dissimulation instead 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


3 * 

of wisdom, and perfidy instead of courage — his expedients were 
the disgrace of the age, rather than his own. 

Again, the Emperor Alexius may be blamed for affecting a 
degree of state which was closely allied to imbecility. He was 
proud of assuming in his own person, and of bestowing upon 
others, the painted show of various orders of nobility, even now, 
when the rank within the prince’s gift was become an additional 
reason for the free barbarian despising the imperial noble. That 
the Greek court was encumbered with unmeaning ceremonies, 
in order to make amends for the want of that veneration which 
ought to have been called forth by real worth, and the presence 
of actual power, was not the particular fault of that prince, but 
belonged to the system of the government of Constantinople for 
ages. Indeed, in its trumpery etiquette, which provided rules 
for the most trivial points of a man’s behavior during the day, 
the Greek Empire resembled no existing power in its minute 
follies, except that of Pekin ; both, doubtless, being influenced 
by the same vain wish, to add seriousness and an appearance 
of importance to objects, which from their trivial nature could 
admit no such distinction. 

Yet thus far we must justify Alexius, that, humble as were 
the expedients he had recourse to, they were more useful to his 
empire than the measures of a more proud and high-spirited 
prince might have proved in the same circumstances. He was 
no champion to break a lance against the breast-plate of his 
Frankish rival, the famous Bohemond of Antioch , * but there 
were many occasions on which he hazarded his life freely ; 
and, so far as we can see, from a minute perusal of his achieve- 
ments, the Emperor of Greece was never so dangerous “ under 
shield,” as when any foeman desired to stop him while retreat- 
ing from a conflict in which he had been worsted. 

But, besides that he did not hesitate, according to the 
custom f the time, at least occasionally, to commit his person 
to the perils of close combat, Alexius also possessed such 
knowledge of a general’s profession, as is required in our 
modern days. He knew how to occupy military positions to 
the best advantage, and often covered defeats, or improved 
dubious conflicts, in a manner highly to the disappointment of 
those who deemed that the work of war was done only on the 
field of battle. 

* Bohemond, son of Robert Guiscard, the Norman conqueror of Apulia, Calabria, and 
Sicil v. was, at the time when the first crusade began, Count of Tarentum. Though far ad- 
vanced in life, he eagerly joined the expedition of the Latins, and became Prince of 
Antioch. For details of his adventures, death, and extraordinary character, see Gibbon, 
eli up. lix., and Mill’s History of the Crusades, vol. i. 


3 2 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


If Alexius Comnenus thus understood the evolutions of war, 
he was still better skilled in those of politics, where, soaring far 
above the express purpose of his immediate negotiation, the 
Emperqr was sure to gain some important and permanent 
advantage ; though very often he was ultimately defeated by 
the unblushing fickleness or avowed treachery of the barba- 
rians, as the Greeks generally termed all other nations, and 
particularly those tribes (they can hardly be termed states), by 
which their own empire was surrounded. 

We may conclude our brief character of Comnenus, by say- 
ing, that, had he not been called on to fill the station of a 
monarch who was under the necessity of making himself 
dreaded, as one who was exposed to all manner of conspiracies, 
both in and out of his own family, he might, in all probability, 
have been regarded as an honest and humane prince. Cer- 
tainly he showed himself a good-natured man, and dealt less 
in cutting off heads and extinguishing eyes, than had been the 
practice of his predecessors, who generally took this method of 
shortening the ambitious views of competitors. 

It remains to be mentioned, that Alexius had his full share 
of the superstition of the age, which he covered with a species 
of hypocrisy. It is even said, that his wife, Irene, who of 
course was best acquainted with the real character of the Em- 
peror, taxed her dying husband with practising, in his last 
moments, the dissimulation which had been his companion 
during life.* He took also a deep interest in all matters re- 
specting the Church, where heresy, which the Emperor held, 
or affected to hold, in great horror, appeared to him to lurk. 
Nor do we discover in his treatment of the Manichaeans, or 
Paulicians, that pity for their speculative errors, which modern 
times might think had been well purchased by the extent of 
the temporal services of these unfortunate sectaries. Alexius 
knew no indulgence for those who misinterpreted the mysteries 
of the Church, or of its doctrines ; and the duty of defending 
religion against schismatics was, in his opinion, as peremptorily 
demanded from him, as that of protecting the empire against 
the numberless tribes of barbarians who were encroaching on its 
boundaries on every side. 

Such a mixture of sense and weakness, of meanness and dig- 
nity, of prudent discretion and poverty of spirit, which last, in 
the European mode of viewing things, approached to cowardice, 
formed the leading traits of the character of Alexius Comnenus, 
at a period when the fate of Greece, and all that was left in 

* See Gibbon, chap. lvi. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


33 


that country of art and civilization, was trembling in the 
balance, and likely to be saved or lost, according to the abili- 
ties of the Emperor for playing the very difficult game which 
was put into his hands. 

These few leading circumstances will recall, to any one who 
is tolerably well read in history, the peculiarities of the period 
at which we have found a resting-place for the foundation of 
our story. 


CHAPTER SECOND. 


Othus. This superb successor 

Of the earth’s mistress, as thou vainly speakest, 

Stands midst these ages as, on the wide ocean, 

The last spared fragment of a spacious land, 

That in some grand and awful ministration 
Of mighty nature has engulfed been, 

Doth lift aloft its dark and rocky cliffs 
O’er the wild waste around, and sadly frowns 
In lonely majesty. 

Constantine Paleologus, Scene /. 

Our scene in the capital of the Eastern Empire opens at 
what is termed the Golden Gate of Constantinople ; and it may 
be said in passing, that this splendid epithet is not so lightly 
bestowed as may be expected from the inflated language of the 
Greeks, which throws such an appearance of exaggeration about 
them, their buildings, and monuments. 

The massive, and seemingly impregnable walls with which 
Constantine surrounded the city, were greatly improved and 
added to by Theodosius, called the Great. A triumphal arch, 
decorated with the architecture of a better, though already a 
degenerate age, and serving, at the same time, as a useful 
entrance, introduced the stranger into the city. On the top, a 
statue of bronze represented Victory, the goddess who had in- 
clined the scales of battle in favor of Theodosius; and, as the 
artist determined to be wealthy if he could not be tasteful, the 
gilded ornaments with which the inscriptions were set off 
readily led to the popular name of the gate. Figures carved 
in a distant and happier period of the art, glanced from the 
walls, without assorting happily with the taste in which these 
were built. The more modern ornaments of the Golden Gate 
bore, at the period of our story, an aspect very different from 
those indicating the “ conquest brought back to the city,” and 
the “ eternal peace ” which the flattering inscriptions recorded 


34 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


as having been extorted by the sword of Theodosius. Four oi 
five military engines, for throwing darts of the largest size, 
were placed upon the summit of the arch, and what had been 
originally designed as a specimen of architectural embellish- 
ment, was now applied to the purposes of defence. 

It was at the hour of evening, and the cool and refreshing 
breeze from the sea inclined each passenger, whose business 
was not of a very urgent description, to loiter on his way, and 
cast a glance at the romantic gateway, and the various inter- 
esting objects of nature and art, which the city of Constan- 
tinople presented, as well to the inhabitants as to strangers.* 

One individual, however, seemed to indulge more wonder 
and curiosity than could have been expected from a native of 
the city, and looked upon the rarities around with a quick and 
startled eye, that marked an imagination awakened by sights 
that were new and strange. The appearance of this person 
bespoke a foreigner of military habits, who seemed, from his 
complexion, to have his birthplace far from the Grecian me- 
tropolis, whatever chance had at present brought him to the 
Golden Gate, or whatever place he filled in the Emperor’s 
service. 

This young man was about two-and-twenty years old, re- 
markably finely formed and athletic — qualities well understood 
by the citizens of Constantinople, whose habits of frequenting 
the public games had taught them at least an acquaintance 
with the human person, and where, in the select of their own 
countrymen, they saw the handsomest specimens of the human 
race. 

These were, however, not generally so tall as the stranger 
at the Golden Gate, while his piercing blue eyes, and the fair 
hair which descended from under a light helmet gayly orna- 
mented with silver, bearing on its summit a crest resembling a 
dragon in the act of expanding its terrible jaws, intimated a 
northern descent, to which the extreme purity of his complexion 
also bore witness. His beauty, however, though he was emi- 
nently distinguished both in features and in person, was not 
liable to the charge of effeminacy. From this it was rescued, 
both by his strength, and by the air of confidence and self-pos- 
session with which the youth seemed to regard the wonders 
around him, not indicating the stupid and helpless gaze of a 
mind equally inexperienced, and incapable of receiving instruc- 
tion, but expressing the bold intellect which at once understands 
the greater part of the information which it receives, and cora- 

* Note A. Constantinople. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


35 

oiands the spirit to toil in search of the meaning of that which 
it has not comprehended, or may fear it has misinterpreted. 
This look of awakened attention and intelligence gave interest 
to the young barbarian ; and while the bystanders were amazed 
that a savage from some unknown or remote corner of the uni- 
verse should possess a noble countenance bespeaking a mind 
so elevated, they respected him for the composure with which 
he witnessed so many things, the fashion, the splendor, nay, 
the very use of which, must have been recently new to him. 

The young man’s personal equipments exhibited a singular 
mixture of splendor and effeminacy, and enabled the experr 
enced spectators to ascertain his nation, and the capacity in 
which he served. We have already mentioned the fanciful and 
crested helmet, which was a distinction of the foreigner, to 
which the reader must add in his imagination a small cuirass, 
or breastplate of silver, so sparingly fashioned as obviously to 
afford little security to the broad chest, on which it rather hung 
like an ornament than covered as a buckler ; nor, if a well- 
thrown dart, or strongly-shod arrow, should alight full on this 
rich piece of armor, was there much hope that it could protect 
the bosom which it partially shielded. 

From betwixt the shoulders hung down over the back what 
had the appearance of a bearskin ; but, when more closely ex- 
amined, it was only a very skilful imitation of the spoils of the 
chase, being in reality a surcoat composed of strong shaggy 
silk, so woven as to exhibit, at a little distance, no inaccurate 
representation of a bear’s hide. A light crooked sword, or 
scimitar, sheathed in a scabbard of gold and ivory, hung by the 
left side of the stranger, the ornamented hilt of which appeared 
much too small for the large-jointed hand of the young Her- 
cules who was thus gayly attired. A dress, purple in color, and 
sitting close to the limbs, covered the body of the soldier to a 
little above the knee ; from thence the knees and legs were 
bare to the calf, to which the reticulated strings of the sandals 
rose from the instep, the ligatures being there fixed by a golden 
coin of the reigning Emperor, converted into a species of clasp 
tor the purpose. 

But a weapon which seemed more particularly adapted to 
the young barbarian’s size, and incapable of being used by a 
man of less formidable limbs and sinews, was a battle-axe, the 
firm iron-guarded staff of which was formed of tough elm, 
strongly inlaid and defended with brass, while many a plate 
and ring were indented in the handle, to hold the wood and 
the steel parts together. The axe itself was composed of two 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


36 

blades, turning different ways, with a sharp steel spike pro 
jecting from between them. The steel part, both spike and 
blade, was burnished as bright as a mirror ; and though its 
ponderous size must have been burdensome to one weaker than 
himself, yet the young soldier carried it as carelessly along, as 
if it were but a feather’s weight. It was, indeed, a skilfully 
constructed weapon, so well balanced, that it was much lighter 
*n striking and in recovery, than he who saw it in the hands of 
another could easily have believed. 

The carrying arms of itself showed that the military man 
was a stranger. The native Greeks had that mark of a civil- 
ized people, that they never bore weapons during the time of 
peace, unless the wearer chanced to be numbered among those 
whose military profession and employment required them to be 
always in arms. Such soldiers by profession were easily dis- 
tinguished from the peaceful citizens; and it was with some 
evident show of fear as well as dislike, that the passengers 
observed to each other, that the stranger was a Varangian, an 
expression which intimated a barbarian of the imperial body- 
guard. 

To supply the deficiency of valor among his own subjects, 
and to procure soldiers who should be personally dependent 
on the Emperor, the Greek sovereigns had been, for a great 
many years, in the custom of maintaining in their pay, as near 
their person as they could, the steady services of a select num- 
ber of mercenaries in the capacity of body-guards, which were 
numerous enough, when their steady discipline and inflexible 
loyalty were taken in conjunction with their personal strength 
and indomitable courage, to defeat, not only any traitorous 
attempt on the imperial person, but to quell open rebellions, 
unless such were supported by a great proportion of the mili- 
tary force. Their pay was therefore liberal ; their rank and 
established character for prowess gave them a degree of con- 
sideration among the people, whose reputation for valor had 
not for some ages stood high ; and if, as foreigners, and the 
members of a privileged body, the Varangians were sometimes 
employed in arbitrary and unpopular services, the natives were 
so apt to fear, while they disliked them, that the hardy strangers 
disturbed themselves but little about the light in which they 
were regarded by the inhabitants of Constantinople. Their 
dress and accoutrements, while within the city, partook of the 
rich, or rather gaudy costume, which we have described, bear- 
ing only a sort of affected resemblance to that which the Va- 
rangians wore in their native forests. But the individuals of 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


37 

this select corps were, when their services were required be- 
yond the city, furnished with armor and weapons more resem- 
bling those which they were accustomed to wield in their own 
country, possessing much less of the splendor of war, and a far 
greater portion of its effective terrors ; and thus they were 
summoned to take the field. 

This body of Varangians (which term is, according to one 
interpretation, merely a general expression for barbarians) 
was, in an early age of the empire, formed of the roving and 
piratical inhabitants of the north, whom a love of adventure, 
the greatest perhaps that was ever indulged, and a contempt of 
danger, which never had a parallel in the history of human 
nature, drove forth upon the pathless ocean. “ Piracy,” says 
Gibbon, with his usual spirit, “ was the exercise, the trade, the 
glory, and the virtue of the Scandinavian youth. Impatient of 
a bleak climate and narrow limits, they started from the ban- 
quet, grasped their arms, sounded their horn, ascended their 
ships, and explored every coast that promised either spoil or 
settlement.” * 

The conquests made in France and Britain by these wild 
sea-kings, as they were called, have obscured the remembrance 
of other northern champions, who, long before the time of 
Comnenus, made excursions as far as Constantinople, and wit- 
nessed with their own eyes the wealth and the weakness of the 
Grecian empire itself. Numbers found their way thither 
through the pathless wastes of Russia; others navigated the 
Mediterranean in their sea-serpents, as they termed their pirat- 
ical vessels. The Emperors, terrified at the appearance of these 
daring inhabitants of the frozen zone, had recourse to the 
usual policy of a rich and unwarlike people, bought with gold 
the service of their swords, and thus formed a corps of satel- 
lites more distinguished for valor than the famed Praetorian 
Bands of Rome, and, perhaps because fewer in number, unalter- 
ably loyal to their new princes. 

But at a later period of the empire it began to be more 
difficult for the Emperors to obtain recruits for their favorite 
and selected corps, the northern nations having now in a great 
measure laid aside the piratical and roving habits, which had 
driven their ancestors from the straits of Elsinore to those of 
Sestos and Abydos. The corps of the Varangians must there- 
fore have died out, or have been filled up with less worthy 
materials, had not the conquests made by the Normans in the 
far distant west, sent to the aid of Comnenus a large body of 

* Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire ; chap. lv. vol. x. p. 221, 8 vo edition. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


33 

the dispossessed inhabitants of the islands of Britain, and par- 
ticularly of England, who furnished recruits to his chosen 
body-guard. These were, in fact, Anglo-Saxons ; but in the con- 
fused idea of geography received at the Court of Constanti- 
nople, they were naturally enough called Anglo-Danes, as their 
native country was confounded with the Thule of the ancients, 
by which expression the archipelago of Zetland and Orkney is 
properly to be understood, though, according to the notions of 
the Greeks, it comprised either Denmark or Britain. The 
emigrants, however, spoke a language not very dissimilar to 
the original Varangians, and adopted the name more readily, 
that it seemed to remind them of their unhappy fate, the ap- 
pellation being in one sense capable of being interpreted as ex- 
iles. Excepting one or two chief commanders, whom the Em- 
peror judged worthy of such high trust, the Varangians were 
officered by men of their own nation ; and with so many privi- 
leges, being joined by many of their countrymen from time to 
time, as the crusades, pilgrimages, or discontent at home, 
drove fresh supplies of the Anglo-Saxons, or Anglo-Danes, to the 
east, the Varangians subsisted in strength to the last days of 
the Greek empire, retaining their native language, along with 
the unblemished loyalty, and unabated martial spirit, which 
characterized their fathers. 

This account of the Varangian Guard is strictly historical, 
and might be proved by reference to the Byzantine historians ; 
most of whom, and also Villehardouin’s account of the taking 
of the city of Constantinople by the Franks and Venetians, 
make repeated mention of this celebrated and singular body of 
Englishmen, forming a mercenary guard attendant on the per- 
son of the Greek Emperors.* 

Having said enough to explain why an individual Varangian 
should be strolling about the Golden Gate, we may proceed in 
the story which we have commenced. 

Let it not be thought extraordinary, that this soldier of the 
life-guard should be looked upon with some degree of curiosity 
by the passing citizens. It must be supposed, that, from their 
peculiar duties, they were not encouraged to hold frequent in- 
tercourse or communication with the inhabitants ; and, besides 
that they had duties of police occasionally to exercise amongst 
them, which made them generally more dreaded than beloved, 
they were at the same time conscious, that their high pay, 
splendid appointments, and immediate dependence on the Em- 
peror, were subjects of envy to the other forces. They there* 

♦Note A. Varangians. 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


39 


fore kept much in the neighborhood of their own barracks, and 
were seldom seen straggling remote from them, unless they had 
a commission of government intrusted to their charge. 

TJiis being the case, it was natural that a people so curious 
as the Greeks should busy themselves in eyeing the stranger as 
he loitered in one spot, or wandered to and fro, like a man who 
either could not find some place which he was seeking, or had 
failed to meet some person with whom he had an appointment, 
for which the ingenuity of the passengers found a thousand 
different and inconsistent reasons. " A Varangian,” said one 
citizen to another, “ and upon your duty — ahem ! Then I pre- 
sume to say in your ear ” 

“ What do you imagine is his object ? ” inquired the party 
to whom this information was addressed. 

“ Gods and goddesses ! do you think I can tell you ? but 
suppose that he is lurking here to hear what folk say of the 
Emperor,” answered the quidnunc of Constantinople. 

“That is not likely,” said the querist ; “ these Varangians 
do not speak our language, and are not extremely well fitted 
for spies, since few of them pretend to any intelligible notion 
of the Grecian tongue. It is not likely, I think, that the Em- 
peror would employ as a spy a man who did not understand 
the language of the country.” 

“ But if there are, as all men fancy,” answered the politi- 
cian, “ persons among these barbarian soldiers who can speak 
almost all languages, you will admit that such are excellently 
qualified for seeing clearly around them, since they possess the 
talent of beholding and reporting, while no one has the slight- 
est idea of suspecting them.” 

“ It may well be,” replied his companion ; “ but since we 
see so clearly the fox’s foot and paws protruding from beneath 
the seeming sheep’s fleece, or rather, by your leave, the bear’s 
hide yonder, had we not better be jogging homeward, ere it be 
pretended we have insulted a Varangian Guard ? ” 

This surmise of danger insinuated by the last speaker, who 
was a much older and more experienced politician than his 
friend, determined both on a hasty retreat. They adjusted 
their cloaks, caught hold of each other’s arm, and, speaking 
fast and thick as they started new subjects of suspicion, they 
sped, close coupled together, towards their habitations, in a 
different and distant quarter of the town. 

In the mean time, the sunset was nigh over ; and the long 
shadows of the walls, bulwarks, and arches, were projecting 
fron the westward in deeper and blacker shade. The Varangian 


40 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


seemed tired of the short and lingering circle in which he had 
now trodden for more than an hour, and in which he still 
loitered like an unliberated spirit, which cannot leave the 
haunted spot till licensed by the spell which has brought it 
hither. Even so the barbarian, casting an impatient glance to 
the sun, which was setting in a blaze of light behind a rich 
grove of cypress-trees, looked for some accommodation on the 
benches of stone which were placed under shadow of the 
triumphal arch of Theodosius, drew the axe, which was his 
principal weapon, close to his side, wrapped his cloak about 
him, and, though his dress was not in other respects a fit attire 
for slumber, any more than the place well selected for repose, 
yet in less than three minutes he was fast asleep. The irresist- 
ible impulse which induced him to seek for repose in a place 
very indifferently fitted for the purpose, might be weariness 
consequent upon the military vigils, which had proved a part 
of his duty on the preceding evening. At the same time his 
spirit was so alive within him, even while he gave way to this 
transient fit of oblivion, that he remained almost awake even 
with shut eyes, and no hound ever seemed to sleep more lightly 
than our Anglo-Saxon at the Golden Gate of Constantinople. 

And now the slumberer, as the loiterer had been before, 
was the subject of observation to the accidental passengers! 
Two men entered the porch in company. One was a somewhat 
slight made, but alert-looking man, by name Lysimachus, and 
by profession a designer. A roll of paper in his hand, with a 
little satchel containing a few chalks, or pencils, completed his 
stock in trade ; and his acquaintance with the remains of an- 
cient art gave him a power of talking on the subject, which 
unfortunately bore more than due proportion to his talents of 
execution. His companion, a magnificent-looking man in form, 
and so rar resembling the young barbarian, but more clownish 
and peasant-like in the expression of his features, was Stephanos 
the wrestler, well known in the Palestra. 

“ St0 P here > my friend,” said the artist, producing his pencils, 
“ till I make a sketch for my youthful Hercules.” 

“.I thought Hercules had been a Greek,” said the wrestler. 
“ This sleeping animal is a barbarian.” 

The tone intimated some offence, and the designer hastened 
to soothe the displeasure which he had thoughtlessly excited. 
Stephanos, known by the surname of Castor, who was highly 
distinguished for gymnastic exercises, was a sort of patron to 
the little artist, and not unlikety by his own reputation to bring 
the talents of his friend into notice. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“Beauty and strength,” said the adroit artist, “are of 


41 


no 


particular nation ; and may our Muse never deign me her nrize 
but it is my greatest pleasure to compare them, as existing in 
the uncultivated savage of the north, and when they are found 
in the darling of an enlightened people, who has added the 
height of gymnastic skill to the most distinguished natural 
qualities, such as we can now only see in the works of Phidias 
and Praxiteles— or in our living model of the gymnastic cham- 
pions of antiquity.” 

“ £ a y, 1 acknowledge that the Varangian is a proper man,” 
said the athletic hero, softening his tone; “but the poor savage 
hath not, perhaps, in his lifetime, had a single drop of oil on 

his bosom ! Hercules instituted the Isthmian Games” 

But hold ! what sleeps he with, wrapt so close in his bear- 
skin ? ” said the artist. “ Is it a club ? ” 

“Away, away, my friend ! ” cried Stephanos, as they looked 
closer on the sleeper. “ Do you not know that is the instru- 
ment of their barbarous office ? They do not war with swords 
or lances, as if destined to attack men of flesh and blood ; but 
with maces and axes, as if they were to hack limbs formed of 
stone, and sinews of oak. I will wager my crown (of withered 
parsley) that he lies here to arrest some distinguished com- 
mander who had offended the government ! He would not have 
been thus formidably armed otherwise — Away, away, good 
Lysimachus ; let us respect the slumbers of the bear. 

So saying, the champion of the Palestra made off, with less 
apparent confidence than his size and strength might have 
inspired. 

Others, now thinly straggling, passed onward as the evening 
closed, and the shadows of the cypress-trees fell darker around. 
Two females of the lower rank cast their eyes on the sleeper. 
“ Holy Maria ! ” said one, “ if he does not put me in mind of 
the Eastern tale, how the Genie brought a gallant young prince 
from his nuptial chamber in Egypt, and left him sleeping at the 
gate of Damascus. I will awake the poor lamb, lest he catch 
harm from the night dew.” 

“ Harm ? ” answered the older and crosser-looking woman. 
“ Ay, such harm as the cold water of the Cydnus does to the 
wild-swan. A lamb ? — ay, forsooth ! Why he’s a wolf or a 
bear, at least a Varangian, and no modest matron would ex- 
change a word with such an unmannered barbarian. I’ll tell 
you what one of these English Danes did to me ” 

So saying, she drew on her companion, who followed with 
some reluctance, seeming to listen to her gabble, while she 
looked back upon the sleeper. 


42 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


The total disappearance of the sun, and nearly at the same 
time the departure of the twilight, which lasts so short time in 
that tropical region — one of the few advantages which a more 
temperate climate possesses over it, being the longer continu- 
ance of that sweet and placid light — gave signal to the warders 
of the city to shut the folding leaves of the Golden Gate, leaving 
a wicket lightly bolted for the passage of those whom business 
might have detained too late without the walls, and indeed for 
all who chose to pay a small coin. The position and apparent 
insensibility of the Varangian did not escape those who had 
charge of the gate, of whom there was a strong guard, which 
belonged to the ordinary Greek forces. 

“By Castor and by Pollux,” said the centurion — for the 
Greeks swore by the ancient deities, although they no longer 
worshipped them, and preserved those military distinctions 
with which “ the steady Romans shook the world,” although 
they were altogether degenerated from their original manners 
— “ By Castor and Pollux, comrades, we cannot gather gold in 
this gate, according as its legend tells us : yet it will be our fault 
if we cannot glean a goodly crop of silver : and though the 
golden age be the most ancient and honorable, yet in this 
degenerate time it is much if we see a glimpse of the inferior 
metal.” 

“ Unworthy are we to follow the noble centurion Harpax,” 
answered one of the soldiers of the watch, who showed the 
shaven head and the single tuft* of a Mussulman, “if we do 
not hold silver a sufficient cause to bestir ourselves, when there 
has been no gold to be had— as, by the faith of an honest man, 
I think we can hardly tell its color— whether out of the imperial 
treasury, or obtained at the expense of individuals, for many 
long moons ! ” J 

m “ But this silver,” said the centurion, “ thou shalt see with 
thine own eye, and hear it ring a knell in the purse which holds 
our common stock.” 

Which did hold it, as thou wouldst say, most valiant com- 
mander,” replied the inferior warder : “but what that purse holds 
now, save a few miserable oboli for purchasing certain pickled 
potherbs and salt fish, to relish our allowance of stummed wine, 

I cannot tell, but willingly give my share of the contents to the 
devil, if either purse or platter exhibits symptom of any age 
richer than the age of copper.” 

“ I will replenish our treasury,” said the centurion, “ were 


* One tuft is left on the shaven crown of the Moslem, for the 
conveying him to Paradise. 


angel to grasp by, when 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS- 


43 


our stock yet lower than it is. Stand up close by the wicket, 
my masters. Bethink you we are the Imperial Guards, or the 
Guards of the Imperial City, it is all one, and let us have no 
man rush past us on a sudden ; — and now that we are on our 

guard, I will unfold to you But stop,” said the valiant 

centurion, “ are we all here true brothers ! Do all well under- 
stand the ancient and laudable customs of our watch — keeping 
all things secret which concern the profit and advantage of this 
our vigil, and aiding and abetting the common cause, without 
information or treachery ? ” 

“ You are strangely suspicious to-night,” answered the sen- 
tinel. “ Methinks we have stood by you without tale-telling 
in matters which were more weighty. Have you forgot the 
passage of the jeweller — which was neither the gold nor silver 
age ; but if there were a diamond one ” 

“ Peace, good Ismail the Infidel,” said the centurion, — “for, 
I thank Heaven, we are of all religions, so it is to be hoped we 
must have the true one amongst us, — Peace, I say ; it is un- 
necessary to prove thou canst keep new secrets, by ripping up 
old ones. Come hither — look through the wicket to the stone 
bench, on the shady side of the grand porch — tell me, old lad, 
what dost thou see there ? ” 

“ A man asleep,” said Ismail. “ By Heaven, I think, from 
what I can see by the moonlight, that it is one of those bar- 
barians, one of those Island dogs, whom the Emperor sets such 
store by ! ” 

“ And can thy fertile brain,” said the centurion, “ spin 
nothing out of his present situation, tending towards our ad- 
vantage ? ” 

“ Why, ay,” said Ismail ; “ they have large pay, though they 
are not only barbarians, but pagan dogs, in comparison with 
us Moslems and Nazarenes. That fellow hath besotted him- 
self with liquor, and hath not found his way home to his 
barracks in good time. He will be severely punished, unless 
we consent to admit him • and to prevail on us to do so, he 
must empty the contents of his girdle.” 

“ That, at least— that, at least,” answered the soldiers of the 
city watch, but carefully suppressing their voices, though they 
spoke in an eager tone. 

“ And is that all that you would make of such an opportu- 
nity ? ” said Harpax, scornfully. “ No, no, comrades. If this 
outlandish animal indeed escape us, he must at least leave his 
fleece behind. See you not the gleams from his headpiece and 
his cuirass ? I presume these betoken substantial silver, though 


44 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


it may be of the thinnest. There lies the silver mine I spoke 
of, ready to enrich the dexterous hands who shall labor it.” 

“But,” said timidly a young Greek, a companion of their 
watch lately enlisted in the corps, and unacquainted with their 
habits, “ still, this barbarian, as you call him, is a soldier ot 
the Emperor ; and if we are convicted of depriving him of his 
arms, we shall be justly punished for a military crime.” 

“ Hear to a new Lycurgus come to teach us our duty ! ” 
said the centurion. “Learn first, young man, that the metro* 
politan cohort never can commit a crime ; and learn next, of 
course, that they can never be convicted of one. Suppose we 
found a straggling barbarian, a Varangian, like this slumberer, 
perhaps a Frank, or some other of these foreigners bearing 
unpronounceable names, while they dishonor us by putting on 
the arms and apparel of the real Roman soldier, are we, placed 
to defend an important post, to admit a man so suspicious 
within our postern, when the event may probably be to betray 
both the Golden Gate and the hearts of gold who guard it, — to 
have the one seized, and the throats of the others handsomely 
cut ? ” 

“ Keep him without side the gate, then,” replied the novice, 
“ if you think him so dangerous. For my part, I should not 
fear him, were he deprived of that huge double-edged axe, 
which gleams from under his cloak, having a more deadly 
glare than the comet which astrologers prophesy such strange 
things of.” 

“Nay then, we agree together,” answered Harpax, “ and 
you speak like a youth of modesty and sense ; and I promise 
you the state will lose nothing in the despoiling of this same 
barbarian. Each of these savages hath a double set of accou- 
trements, the one wrought with gold, silver, inlaid work, and 
ivory, as becomes their duties in the prince’s household ; the 
other fashioned of triple steel, strong, weighty, and irresistible. 
Now, in taking from this suspicious character his silver helmet 
and cuirass, you reduce him to his proper weapons, and you 
will see him start up in arms fit for duty.” 

“Yes,” said the novice ; “but I do not see that this reason* 
ing will do more than warrant our stripping the Varangian of 
his armor, to be afterwards heedfully returned to him on the 
morrow, if he prove a true man. How, I know not, but I had 
adopted some idea that it was to be confiscated for our joint 
behoof.” 

“ Unquestionably,” said Harpax ; “for such has been the 
rule of our watch ever since the days of the excellent centurion 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


45 


Sisyphus, in whose time it first was determined, that all con- 
traband commodities or suspicious weapons, or the like, which 
were brought into the city during the night-watch, should be 
uniformly forfeited to the use of the soldiery of the guard ; 
and where the Emperor finds the goods or arms unjustly seized, 
I hope he is rich enough to make it up to the sufferer.” 

“ But still — but still,” said Sebastes of Mitylene, the young 
Greek aforesaid, “ were the Emperor to discover ?” 

“Ass!” replied Harpax, “he cannot discover, if he had 
all the eyes of Argus’s tail. — Here are twelve of us sworn, 
according to the rules of the watch, to abide in the same story. 
Here is a barbarian, who, if he remembers anything of the 
matter — which I greatly doubt — his choice of a lodging argu- 
ing his familiarity with the wine-pot — tells but a wild tale of 
losing his armor, which we, my masters ” (looking round to 
his companions), “ deny stoutly — I hope we have courage 
enough for that — and which party will be believed ? The com- 
panions of the watch surely ! ” 

“ Quite the contrary,” said Sebastes. “ I was born at a 
distance from hence ; yet even in the island of Mitylene, the 
rumor had reached me that the cavaliers of the city-guard of 
Constantinople were so accomplished in falsehood, that the oath 
of a single barbarian would outweigh the Christian oath of the 
whole body, if Christians some of them are — for example, this 
dark man with a single tuft on his head.” 

“ And if it were even so,” said the centurion, with a gloomy 
and sinister look, “ there is another way of making the trans- 
action a safe one.” 

Sebastes, fixing his eye on his commander, moved his hand to 
the hilt of an Eastern poniard which he wore, as if to penetrate 
his exact meaning. The centurion nodded in acquiescence. 

“Young as I am,” said Sebastes, “I have been already a 
pirate five years at sea, and a robber three years now in the 
hills, and it is the first time I have seen or heard a man hesi- 
tate, in such a case, to take the only part which is worth a 
brave man’s while to resort to in a pressing affair.” 

Harpax struck his hand into that of the soldier, as sharing 
his uncompromising sentiments ; but when he spoke, it wa^ in 
a tremulous voice. 

“ How shall we deal with him ? ” said he to Sebastes, who, 
from the most raw recruit in the corps, had now risen to the 
highest place in his estimation. 

“Any how,” returned the islander; “I see bows here and 
shafts, and if no other person can use them ” 


46 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“They are not, 5 ’ said the centurion, “the regular arms of 
our corps.” 

“ The fitter you to guard the gates of a city,” said the young 
soldier, with a horse-laugh, which had something insulting in it. 
“ Well — be it so, I can shoot like a Scythian,” he proceeded ; 
“nod but with your head, one shaft shall crash among the 
splinters of his skull and his brains ; the second shall quiver in 
his heart.” 

“ Bravo, my noble comrade ! ” said Harpax in a tone of 
affected rapture, always lowering his voice, however, as respect- 
ing the slumbers of the Varangian. “ Such were the robbers of 
ancient days, the Diomedes, Corynetes, Synnes, Scyrons, Pro- 
crustes, whom it required demigods to bring to what was mis- 
called justice, and whose compeers and fellows will remain 
masters of the continent and isles of Greece, until Hercules 
and Theseus shall again appear upon earth. Nevertheless, 
shoot not, my valiant Sebastes — draw not the bow, my invalu- 
able Mitylenian ; you may wound and not kill.” 

“ I am little wont to do so,” said Sebastes, again repeating 
the hoarse, chuckling, discordant laugh, which grated upon the 
ears of the centurion, though he could hardly tell the reason 
why it was so uncommonly unpleasant. 

“ If I look not about me,” was his internal reflection, “ we 
shall have two centurions of the watch, instead of one. This 
Mitylenian, or be he who the devil will, is a bow’s length be- 
yond me. I must keep my eye on him.” He then spoke aloud, 
in a tone of authority. “ But come, young man, it is hard to 
discourage a young beginner. If you have been such a rover 
of wood and river as you tell us of, you know how to play the 
Sicarius : there lies your object, drunk or asleep, we know not 
which ; — you will deal with him in either case.” 

“ Will you give me no odds to stab a stupified or drunken 
man, most noble centurion ? ” answered the Greek. “ You 
would perhaps love the commission yourself?” he continued, 
somewhat ironically. 

“ Do as you are directed, friend,” said Harpax, pointing to 
the turret staircase which led down from the battlement to the 
arched entrance underneath the porch. 

“ He has the true cat-like stealthy pace,” half muttered the 
centurion, as his sentinel descended to do such a crime as he was 
posted there to prevent. “ This cockerel’s comb must be cut, 
or he will become king of the roost. But let us see if his hand 
be as resolute as his tongue ; then we will consider what turn 
to give to the conclusion,” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


47 

As Harpax spoke between his teeth, and rather to himself 
cnan any of his companions, the Mitylenian emerged from under 
the archway, treading on tiptoe, yet swiftly, with an admirable 
mixture of silence and celerity. His poniard, drawn as he 
descended, gleamed in his hand, which was held a little behind 
the rest of his person, so as to conceal it. The assassin hovered 
less than an instant over the sleeper, as if to mark the interval 
between the ill-fated silver corselet and the body which it was 
designed to protect, when, at the instant the blow was rushing 
to its descent, the Varangian started up at once, arrested the 
armed hand of the assassin, by striking it upwards with the 
head of his battle-axe ; and while he thus parried the intended 
stab, struck the Greek a blow heavier than Sebastes had ever 
learned at the Pancration, which left him scarce the power to 
cry help to his comrades on the battlements. They saw what 
had happened, however, and beheld the barbarian set his foot 
on their companion, and brandish high his formidable weapon, 
the whistling sound of which made the old arch ring ominously, 
while he paused an instant, with his weapon upheaved, ere he 
gave the finishing blow to his enemy. The warders made a 
bustle, as if some of them would descend to the assistance of 
Sebastes, without, however, appearing very eager to do so, when 
Harpax, in a rapid whisper, commanded them to stand fast. 

“ Each man to his place,” he said, “ happen what may. 
Yonder comes a Captain of the guard — the secret is our own, 
if the savage has killed the Mitylenian, as I well trust, for he 
stirs neither hand nor foot. But if he lives, my comrades, make 
hard your faces as flints — he is but one man, we are twelve. 
We know nothing of his purpose, save that he went to see 
wherefore the barbarian slept so near the post. 

While the centurion thus bruited his purpose in busy insin- 
uation to the companions of his watch, the stately figure of a 
tall soldier, richly armed, and presenting a lofty crest, which 
glistened as he stepped from the open moonlight into the shade 
of the vault, became visible beneath. A whisper passed among 
the warders on the top of the gate. 

“ Draw bolt, shut gate, come of the Mitylenian what will,” 
said the centurion ; “ we are lost men if we own him. — Here 
comes the chief of the Varangian axes, the Follower himself.” 

“ Well, Hereward,” said the officer who came last upon the 
scene, in a sort of lingua Franca, generally used by the barba- 
rians of the guard, “hast thou caught a night-hawk ? ” 

“ Ay, by Saint George ! ” answered the soldier ; “ and yet, 
in my country, we would call him but a kite.” 


4 8 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS 


“ What is he ? ” said the leader. 

“ He will tell you that himself,” replied the Varangiah, 

“ when I take my grasp from his windpipe.” 

“ Let him go then,” said the officer. 

The Englishman did as he was commanded ; but, escaping 
as soon as he felt himself at liberty, with an alertness which 
could scarce have been anticipated, the Mitylenian rushed out 
at the arch, and, availing himself of the complicated ornaments 
which had originally graced the exterior of the gateway, he fled 
around buttress and projection, closely pursued by the Varan- 
gian, who, cumbered with his armor, was hardly a match in the 
course for the light-footed Grecian, as he dodged his pursuer 
from one skulking place to another. The officer laughed 
heartily, as the two figures, like shadows appearing, and disap- 
pearing as suddenly, held rapid flight and chase around the 
arch of Theodosius. 

“ By Hercules ! it is Hector pursued round the walls of Ilion 
by Achilles,” said the officer ; “ but my Pelides will scarce 
overtake the son of Priam. What, ho ! goddess-born — son of 
the white-footed Thetis ! — But the allusion is lost on the poor 
savage — Hollo, Hereward ! I say, stop — know thine own most 
barbarous name.” These last words were muttered ; then rais- 
ing his voice, “ Do not out-run thy wind, good Hereward. Thou 
mayst have more occasion for breath to-night.” 

“ If it had been my leader’s will,” answered the Varangian, 
coming back in sulky mood, and breathing like one who had 
been at the top of his speed, “I would have had him as fast as 
ever greyhound held hare, ere I left off the chase. Were it not 
for this foolish armor, which encumbers without defending one, 
I would not have made two bounds without taking him by the 
throat.” 

“ As well as it is,” said the officer, who was, in fact, the 
Acoulouthos, or Follower , so called because it was the duty of 
this highly-trusted officer of the Varangian Guards constantly to 
attend on the person of the Emperor. “ But let us now see by 
what means we are to regain our entrance through the gate ; 
for if, as I suspect, it was one of those warders who was will- 
ing to have played thee a trick, his companions may not let us 
enter willingly.” 

“And is it not,” said the Varangian, “your Valor’s duty 
to probe this want of discipline to the bottom ? ” 

“ Hush thee here, my simple-minded savage ? I have often 
told you, most ignorant Hereward, that the skulls of those who 
come from our cold and muddy Bceotia of the North, are fitter 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


49 


to bear out twenty blows with a sledge-hammer, than turn off 
one witty or ingenious idea. But follow me, Hereward, and 
although I am aware that showing the fine meshes of Grecian 
policy to the coarse eye of an unpractised barbarian like thee, 
is much like casting pearls before swine, a thing forbidden in 
the Blessed Gospel, yet, as thou hast so good a heart, and so 
trusty, as is scarce to be met with among my Varangians them- 
selves, I care not if, while thou art in attendance on my per- 
son, I endeavor to indoctrinate thee in some of that policy by 
which I myself — the Follower — the chief of the Varangians, 
and therefore erected by their axes into the most valiant of the 
valiant, am content to guide myself, although everyway qualified 
to bear me through the cross currents of the Court, by main 
pull of oar and press of sail — a condescension in me, to do that 
by policy, which no man in this imperial Court, the chosen 
sphere of superior wits, could so well accomplish by open force 
as myself. What think’st thou, good savage ? ” 

“ I know,'’’ answered the Varangian, who walked about a 
step and a half behind his leader, like an orderly of the pres- 
ent day behind his officer’s shoulder. “ I should be sorry to 
trouble my head with what I could do by my hands at once.” 

44 Did 1 not say so ? ” replied the Follower, who had now 
for some minutes led the way from the Golden Gate, and was 
seen gliding along the outside of the moonlight walls, as if 
seeking an entrance elsewhere. “ Lo, such is the stuff of what 
you call your head is made ! Your hands and arms are per- 
fect Ahithophels, compared to it. Hearken to me, thou most 
ignorant of all animals, — but, for that very reason, thou stoutest 
of confidants, and bravest of soldiers, — I will tell thee the very 
riddle of this night-work, and yet, even then I doubt if thou 
canst understand me.” 

“ It is my present duty to try to comprehend your Valor,” 
said the Varangian — “ I would say your policy, since you con- 
descend to expound it to me. As for your valor,” he added, 
“ I should be unlucky if I did not think I understand its length 
and breadth already.” 

The Greek general colored a little, but replied, with un- 
altered voice, “ True, good Hereward. We have seen each 
other in battle.” 

Hereward here could not suppress a short cough, which to 
those grammarians of the day who were skilful in applying the 
use of accents, would have implied no peculiar eulogium on his 
officer’s military bravery. Indeed, during their whole inter- 
course. the conversation of the General, in spite of his tone of 

4 


So 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


affected importance and superiority, displayed an obvious re- 
spect for his companion, as one who, in many points of action, 
might, if brought to the test, prove a more effective soldier 
than himself. On the other hand, when the powerful Northern 
warrior replied, although it was with all observance of dis- 
cipline and duty, yet the discussion might sometimes resemble 
that between an ignorant macaroni officer, before the Duke of 
York’s reformation of the British army, and a steady sergeant 
of the regiment in which they both served. There was a con- 
sciousness of superiority, disguised by external respect, and 
half admitted by the leader. 

“ You will grant me, my simple friend,” continued the chief, 
in the same tone as before, “ in order to lead thee by a short 
passage into the deepest principle of policy which pervades this 
same court of Constantinople, that the favor of the Emperor ” 
— (here the officer raised his casque and the soldier made a 
semblance of doing so also) — “ who (be the place where he puts 
his foot sacred !) is the vivifying principle of the sphere in which 
we live, as the sun itself is that of humanity ” * 

“ I have heard something like this said by our tribunes,” 
said the Varangian. 

“ It is their duty so to instruct you,” answered the leader, 
11 and I trust that the priests also, in their sphere, forget not to 
teach my Varangians their constant service to their Emperor.” 

“ They do not omit it,” replied the soldier, “ though we of 
the exiles know our duty.” 

tf God forbid I should doubt it,” said the commander of the 
battle-axes. All I mean is to make thee understand, my dear 
Hereward, that as they are, though perhaps such do not exist 
in thy dark and gloomy climate, a race of insects which are 
born in the first rays of the morning, and expire with those of 
sunset (thence called by us ephemerae, as enduring one day 
only), such is the case of a favorite at court, while enjoying the 
smiles of the most sacred Emperor. And happy is he whose 
favor, rising as the person of the sovereign emerges from the 
level space which extends around the throne, displays itself in 
the first imperial blaze of glory, and who, keeping his post dur- 
ing the meridian splendor of the crown, has only the fate to 
disappear and die with the last beam of imperial brightness.” 

“ Your Valor,” said the islander, “ speaks higher language 
than my Northern wits are able to comprehend. Only, me- 
thinks, rather than part with life at the sunset, I would, since 
insect I must needs be, become a moth for two or three dark 
hours.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


51 


** Such is the sordid desire of the vulgar, Hereward,” an« 
swered the Follower, with assumed superiority, “ who are com 
tented to enjoy life, lacking distinction ; whereas we, on the 
other hand, we of choicer quality, who form the nearest and in- 
nermost circle around the Imperial Alexius, in which he him- 
self forms the central point, are watchful to woman’s jealousy 
of the distribution of its favors, and omit no opportunity, 
whether by leaguing with or against each other, to recommend 
ourselves individually to the peculiar light of his countenance.” 

“ 1 think 1 comprehend what you mean,” said the guards- 
man ; “ although as for living such a life of intrigue— but that 
matters not.” 

“It does indeed matter not, my good Hereward,” said his 
officer, “ and thou art lucky in having no appetite for the life 
I have described. Yet have I seen Barbarians rise high in the 
empire, and if they have not altogether the flexibility, the 
malleability, as it is called — that happy ductility which can 
give way to circumstances, I have yet known those of barbaric 
tribes, especially if bred up at court from their youth, who 
joined to a limited portion of this flexible quality enough of a 
certain tough durability of temper, which if it does not excel 
in availing itself of opportunity, has no contemptible talent at 
creating it. But letting comparisons pass, it follows from this 
emulation of glory, that is, of royal favor, amongst the servants 
of the imperial and most sacred court, that each is desirous of 
distinguishing himself by showing to the Emperor, not only 
that he fully understands the duties of his own employments, but 
that he is capable, in case of necessity, of discharging those of 
others.” 

“ I understand,” said the Saxon ; “ and thence it happens 
that the under ministers, soldiers, and assistants of the great 
crown officers, are perpetually engaged, not in aiding each other, 
but in acting as spies on their neighbors’ actions ? ” 

“Even so,” answered the commander ; “ it is but few days 
since I had a disagreeable instance of it. Every one, however, 
dull in the intellect, hath understood thus much, that the 
great Protospathaire, * which title thou knowest signifies the 
General-in-chief of the forces of the empire, hath me at hatred, 
because I am the leader of those redoutable Varangians, who 
enjoy, and well deserve, privileges exempting them from the 
absolute command which he possesses over all other corps of 
the army — an authority which becomes Nicanor, notwithstand 


Literally, the First Swordsmaq. 


52 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


ing the victorious sound of his name, nearly as well as a war- 
saddle would become a bullock.” 

“ How ! ” said the Varangian, “ does the Protospathaire 
pretend to any authority over the noble exiles ? — By the red 
dragon, under which we will live and die, we will obey no man 
alive but Alexius Comnenus himself, and our own officers ! ” 

“ Rightly and bravely resolved,” said the leader ; “ but my 
good Hereward, let not your just indignation hurry you so far 
as to name the most sacred Emperor, without raising your hand 
to your casque, and adding the epithets of his lofty rank.” 

“I will raise my hand often enough and high enough,” said 
the Norseman, “ when the Emperor’s service requires it.” 

“ I dare be sworn thou wilt,” said Achilles Tatius, the com- 
mander of the Varangian Imperial Body Guard, who thought 
the time was unfavorable for distinguishing himself by insist- 
ing on that exact observance of etiquette, which was one of his 
great pretentions to the name of a soldier. “ Yet were it not 
for the constant vigilance of your leader, my child, the noble 
Varangians would be trod down, in the common mass of the 
army, with the heathen cohorts of Huns, Scythians, or those 
turban’d infidels the renegade Turks ; and even for this is your 
commander here in peril, because he vindicates his axe-men as 
worthy of being prized above the paltry shafts of the Eastern 
tribes and the javelins of the Moors, which are only fit to be 
playthings for children.” 

“You are exposed to no danger,” said the soldier, closing 
up to Achilles in a confidential manner, from which these axes 
can protect you.” 

“ Do I not know it ? ” said Achilles. “ But it is to your arms 
alone that the Follower of his most sacred Majesty now intrusts 
his safety.” 

“In aught that a soldier may do,” answered Hereward; 
“make your own computation, and then reckon this single arm 
worth two against any man the Emperor has, not being of our 
own corps.” 

“Listen, my brave friend,” continued Achilles. “This 
Nicanor was daring enough to throw a reproach on our noble 
corps, accusing them — gods and goddesses ! — of plundering in 
the field, and, yet more sacrilegious of drinking the precious 
wine which was prepared for his most sacred Majesty’s own 
blessed consumption. I, the sacred person of the Emperor 
being present, proceeded, as thou mayst well believe ” 

“ To give him the lie in his audacious throat ! ” burst in the 
Varangian — “ named a place of meeting somewhere in the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


S3 

vicinity, and called the attendance of your poor follows 
Hereward of Hampton, who is your bond-slave for life long, 
for such an honor ! I wish only you had told me to get my 
work-day arms ; but, however, I have my battle-axe, and ” — — 
Here his companion seized a moment to break in, for he was 
somewhat abashed at the lively tone of the young soldier. 

“ Hush thee, my son,” said Achilles Tatius ; “speak low, my 
excellent Hereward. Thou mistakest this thing. With thee 
by my side, I would not, indeed, hesitate to meet five such as 
Nicanor ; but such is not the law of this most hallowed empire, 
nor the sentiments of the three times illustrious Prince who 
now rules it. Thou art debauched, my soldier, with the swag- 
gering stories of the Franks, of whom we hear more and more 
every day.” 

“ I would not willingly borrow anything from those whom 
you call Franks, and we Normans,” answered the Varangian, in 
a disappointed, dogged tone. 

“ Why, listen then,” said the officer, as they proceeded on 
their walk, “ listen to the reason of the thing, and consider 
whether such a custom can obtain, as that which they term the 
duello, in any country of civilization and common sense, to say 
nothing of one which is blessed with the domination of the 
most rare Alexius Comnenus. Two great lords, or high officers, 
quarrel in the court, and before the reverend person of the 
Emperor. They dispute about a point of fact. Now, instead 
of each maintaining his own opinion by argument or evidence, 
suppose they had adopted the custom of these barbarous Franks, 
‘ Why, thou liest in thy throat,’ says the one ; ‘ and thou liest 
in thy very lungs,’ says another ; and they measure forth the 
lists of battle in the next meadow. Each swears to the truth 
of his quarrel, though probably neither well knows precisely 
how the fact stands. One, perhaps the hardier, truer, and 
better man of the two, the Follower of the Emperor, and father 
of the Varangians (for death, my faithful follower, spares no 
man) lies dead on the ground, and the other comes back to 
predominate in the court, where, had the matter been inquired 
into by the rules of common sense and reason, the victor, as 
he is termed, would have been sent to the gallows. And yet 
this is the law of arms, as your fancy pleases to call it, friend 
Hereward ! ” 

“ May it please your Valor,” answered the barbarian, “ there 
is a show of sense in what you say ; but you will sooner con- 
vince me that this blessed moonlight is the blackness of a wolfs 
mouth, than that I ought to hear myself called liar, without 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


54 

cramming the epithet down the speaker’s throat with the spike 
of my battle-axe. The lie is to a man the same as a blow, and 
a blow degrades him into a slave and a beast of burden, if en- 
dured without retaliation.” 

“ Ay, there it is ! ” said Achilles ; “ could I but get you to 
lay aside that inborn barbarism, which leads you, otherwise the 
most disciplined soldiers who serve the sacred Emperor, into 
such deadly quarrels and feuds ” 

“ Sir Captain,” said the Varangian, in a sullen tone, “take 
my advice, and take the Varangians as you have them ; for, be- 
lieve my word, that if you could teach them to endure reproaches, 
bear the lie, or tolerate stripes, you would hardly find them, when 
their discipline is completed, worth the single day’s salt which 
they cost to his holiness, if that be his title. I must tell you, 
moreover, valorous sir, that the Varangians will little thank 
their leader, who heard them called marauders, drunkards, and 
what not, and repelled not the charge on the spot.” 

“ Now, if I knew not the humors of my barbarians,” 
thought Tatius, in his own mind, “ I should bring on myself a 
quarrel with these untamed islanders, who the Emperor thinks 
can be so easily kept in discipline. But I will settle this sport 
presently.” Accordingly, he addressed the Saxon in a sooth- 
ing tone. 

“ My faithful soldier,” he proceeded aloud, “ we Romans, 
according to the custom of our ancestors, set as much glory on 
actually telling the truth, as you do in resenting the imputation 
of falsehood ; and I could not with honor return a charge of 
falsehood upon Nicanor, since what he said was substantially 
true.” 

“What! that we Varangians were plunderers, drunkards, 
and the like ? ” said Hereward, more impatient than before. 

“ No, surely, not in that broad sense,” said Achilles ; “ but 
there was too much foundation for the legend.” 

“When and where ? ” asked the Anglo-Saxon. 

“You remember,” replied his leader, “ the long march near 
Laodicea, where the Varangians beat off a crowd of Turks, and 
retook a train of the imperial baggage ? You know what was 
done that day — how you quenched your thirst, I mean ? ” 

“ I have some reason to remember it,” said Hereward of 
Hampton ; “ for we were half choked with dust, fatigue, and, 
which was worst of all, constantly fighting with our faces to 
the rear, when we found some firkins of wine in certain car- 
riages which were broken down — down our throats it went as 
if it had been the best ale in Southampton.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


ss 

“ Ah, unhappy ! ” said the Follower ; " saw ye not that the 
firkins were stamped with the thrice excellent Grand Butler’s 
own inviolable seal, and set apart for the private use of his Im- 
perial Majesty’s most sacred lips ? ” 

“ By good Saint George of merry England, worth a dozen of 
your Saint George of Cappadocia, I neither thought nor cared 
about the matter,” answered Hereward. “ And I know your 
Valor drank a mighty draught yourself out of my head-piece ; 
not this silver bauble, but my steel-cap, which is twice as ample. 
By the same token, that whereas before you were giving orders 
to fall back, you were a changed man when you had cleared 
your throat of the dust and cried, ‘ Bide the other brunt, my 
brave and stout boys of Britain ! ’ ” 

“ Ay,” said Achilles, “ I know I am but too apt to be ven- 
turous in action. But you mistake, good Hereward ; the wine 
I tasted in the extremity of martial fatigue, was not that set 
apart for his sacred Majesty’s own peculiar mouth, but a second- 
ary sort, preserved for the Grand Butler himself, of which, as 
one of the great officers of the household, I might right law- 
fully partake — the chance was nevertheless sinfully unhappy.” 

“ On my life,” replied Hereward, “ I cannot see the infelicity 
of drinking when we are dying with thirst.” 

“ But cheer up, my noble comrade,” said Achilles, after he 
had hurried over his own exculpation, and without noticing the 
Varangian’s light estimation of the crime, “his Imperial Maj- 
esty, in his ineffable graciousness, imputes these ill-advised 
draughts as a crime to no one who partook of them. He re- 
buked the Protospathaire for fishing up this accusation, and 
said, when he had recalled the bustle and confusion of that 
toilsome day, ‘ I thought myself well off amid that seven times 
heated furnace, when we obtained a draught of the barley-wine 
drunk by my poor Varangians ; and I drank their health, as 
well I might, since, had it not been for their services, I had 
drunk my last ; and well fare their hearts, though they quaffed 
my wine in return ! ’ And with that he turned off, as one 
who said, ‘ I have too much of this, being a finding of matter 
and ripping up of stories against Achilles Tatius and his gallant 
Varangians.’ ” 

“ Now, may God bless his honest heart for it ! ” said Here- 
ward, with more downright heartiness than formal respect. 
“ I’ll drink to his health in what I put next to my lips that 
quenches thirst, whether it may be ale, wine, or ditch-water.” 

“ Why, well said, but speak not above thy breath 1 and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


5 & 

remember to put thy hand to thy forehead, when naming, oi 
even thinking of, the Emperor ! — Well, thou knowest, Here- 
ward, that having thus obtained the advantage, I knew that 
the moment of a repulsed attack is always that of a successful 
charge ; and so I brought against the Protospathaire, Nicanor, 
the robberies which have been committed at the Golden Gate, 
and other entrances of the city, where a merchant was but of 
late kidnapped and murdered, having on him certain jewels, 
the property of the Patriarch.” 

“ Ay ! indeed ! ” said the Varangian ; “ and what said 

Alex 1 mean the most sacred Emperor, when he heard 

such things said of the city warders ! — though he had himself 
given, as we say in our land, the fox the geese to keep.” 

“ It may be he did,” replied Achilles ; “ but he is a sover- 
eign of deep policy, and was resolved not to proceed against 
these treacherous warders, or their general, the Protospathaire, 
without decisive proof. His sacred Majesty, therefore, charged 
me to obtain specific circumstantial proof by thy means.” 

“ And that I would have managed in two minutes, had you 
not called me off the chase of yon cut-throat vagabond. But 
his grace knows the word of a Varangian, and I can assure him 
that either lucre of my silver gaberdine, which they nickname a 
cuirass, or the hatred of my corps, would be sufficient to incite 
any of these knaves to cut the throat of a Varangian, who 
appeared to be asleep. So we go, I suppose, captain, to bear 
evidence before the Emperor to this night’s work ? ” 

“No, my active soldier, hadst thou taken the runaway 
villain, my first act must have been to set him free again : and 
my present charge to you is, to forget that such an adventure 
has ever taken place.” 

“Ha!” said the Varangian; “this is a change of policy 
indeed ! ” 

“ Why, yes, brave Hereward ; ere I left the palace this night, 
the Patriarch made overtures of reconciliation betwixt me and 
the Protospathaire, which, as our agreement is of much conse- 
quence to the state, I could not very well reject, either as a 
good soldier or a good Christian. All offences to my honor 
are to be in the fullest degree repaid, for which the Patriarch 
interposes his warrant. The Emperor, who will rather wink 
hard than see disagreements, loves better the matter should be 
slurred over thus.” 

“And the reproaches upon the Varangians,” said Here- 
ward — 

“ Shall be fully retracted and atoned for,” answered Achillev 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


57 

* and a weighty donative in gold dealt among the corps of the 
Anglo-Danish axe-men. Thou, my Hereward, mayst be dis- 
tributor ; and thus, if well managed, mayst plate thy battle-axe 
with gold.” 

“ I love my axe better as it is,” said the Varangian. “My 
father bore it against the robber Normans at Hastings. Steel 
instead of gold for my money.” 

“ Thou mayst make thy choice, Hereward,” answered his 
officer ; “ only, if thou art poor, say the fault was thine own.” 

But here, in the course of their circuit round Constantinople, 
the officer and his soldier came to a very small wicket or sally- 
port, opening on the interior of a large and massive advanced 
work, which terminated an entrance to the city itself. Here 
the officer halted, and made his obedience, as a devotee who is 
about to enter a chapel of peculiar sanctity. 


CHAPTER THIRD. 


Here, youth, thy foot unbrace, 

Here, youth, thy brow unbraid; 

Each tribute that may grace 
The threshold here be paid. 

Walk with the stealthy pace 
Which Nature teaches deer, 

When, echoing in the chase, 

The hunter’s Lorn they hear. 

The Court. 

Before entering, Achilles Tatius made various gesticula- 
tions, which were imitated roughly and awkwardly by the un- 
practised Varangian, whose service with his corps had been 
almost entirely in the field, his routine of duty not having, till 
very lately, called him to serve as one of the garrison of Con- 
stantinople. He was not, therefore, acquainted with the minute 
observances which the Greeks, who were the most formal and 
ceremonious soldiers and courtiers in the world, rendered not 
merely to the Greek Emperor in person, but throughout the 
sphere which peculiarly partook of his influence. 

Achilles, having gesticulated after his own fashion, at length 
touched the door with a rap, distinct at once and modest. This 
was thrice repeated, when the captain whispered to his attend- 
ant, “ The interior ! — for thy life, do as thou seest me do.” 
At the same moment he started back, and stooping his head on 
his breast, with his hands .over his eyes, as if to save them 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


58 

from being dazzled by an expected burst of light, awaited the 
answer to his summons. The Anglo-Dane, desirous to obey 
his leader, imitating him as near as he could, stood side by side 
in the posture of Oriental humiliation. The little portal opened 
inwards, when no burst of light was seen, but four of the Va- 
rangians were made visible in the entrance, holding each his 
battle-axe, as if about to strike down the intruders who had 
disturbed the silence of their watch. 

“ Acoulouthos,” said the leader, by way of password. 

“ Tatius and Acoulouthos,” murmured the warders as a 
countersign. 

Each sentinel sunk his weapon. 

Achilles then reared his stately crest, with a conscious dig- 
nity at making this display of court influence in the eyes of his 
soldiers. Hereward observed an undisturbed gravity, to the 
surprise of his officer, who marvelled in his own mind how he 
could be such a barbarian as to regard with apathy a scene, 
which had in his eyes the most impressive and peculiar awe. 
This indifference he imputed to the stupid insensibility of his 
companion. 

They passed on between the sentinels, who wheeled back- 
ward in file, on each side of the portal, and gave the strangers 
entrance to a long narrow plank, stretched across the city-moat, 
which was here drawn within the enclosure of an external ram- 
part, projecting beyond the principal wall of the city. 

“ This,” he whispered to Hereward, “ is called the Bridge 
of Peril, and it is said that it has been occasionally smeared 
with oil, or strewed with dried peas, and that the bodies of 
men, known to have been in company with the Emperors most 
sacred person, have been taken out of the Golden Horn,* into 
which the moat empties itself.” 

“ I would not have thought,” said the islander, raising his 
voice to its usual rough tone, “ that Alexius Comnenus” 

“ Hush, rash and regardless of your life ! ” said Achilles 
Tatius ; “to awaken the daughter of the imperial arch,f is to 
incur deep penalty at all times ; but when a rash delinquent 
has disturbed her with reflections on his most sacred Highness 
the Emperor, death is a punishment far too light for the effron- 
tery which has interrupted her blessed slumber !— Ill hath been 
my fate, to have positive commands laid on me, enjoining me 
to bring into the sacred precincts a creature who hath no more 
of the salt of civilization in him than to keep his mortal frame 

* The harbor of Constantinople. 

t The daughter of the arch was a courtly expression for the echo, as we find explained 
by the courtly commander himself. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


59 

from corruption, since of all mental culture he is totally incap, 
able. Consider thyself, Hereward, and bethink thee what thou 
art. By nature a poor barbarian— thy best boast that thou hast 
slain certain Mussulmans in thy sacred master’s quarrel; and 
here art thou admitted into the inviolable enclosure of the 
Blaquernal, and in the hearing not only of the royal daughter 
of the imperial arch, which means,” said the eloquent leader- 
“ the echo of the sublime vaults ; but — Heaven be our guide, 
—for what I know, within the natural hearing of the Sacred 
Ear itself ! ” 

“ Well, my captain,” replied the Varangian, “ I cannot pre- 
sume to speak my mind after the fashion of this place ; but 
I can easily suppose I am but ill qualified to converse in the 
presence of the court, nor do I mean therefore to say a word 
till I am spoken to, unless when I shall see no better company 
than ourselves. To be plain, I find difficulty in modelling my 
voice to a smoother tone than nature has given it. So, hence* 
forth, my brave captain, I will be mute, unless when you give 
me a sign to speak.” 

“You will act wisely,” said the captain. “ Here be certain 
persons of high rank, nay, some that have been born in the 
purple itself, that will, Hereward (alas for thee !) prepare to 
sound with the line of their courtly understanding the depths 
of thy barbarous and shallow conceit. Do not, therefore, then, 
join their graceful smiles with thy inhuman bursts of cachin- 
nation, with which thou art wont to thunder forth when opening 
in chorus with thy messmates.” 

“I tell thee I will be silent,” said the Varangian, moved 
somewhat beyond his mood. “ If you trust my word, so ; if 
you think I am a jackdaw that must be speaking, whether in 
or out of place and purpose, I am contented to go back again, 
and therein we can end the matter.” 

Achilles, conscious perhaps that it was his best policy not 
to drive his subaltern to extremity, lowered his tone somewhat 
in reply to the uncourtly note of the soldier, as if allowing some- 
thing for the rude manners of one whom he considered as not 
easily matched among the Varangians themselves, for strength 
and valor ; qualities which, in despite of Hereward’s dis- 
courtesy, Achilles suspected in his heart were fully more valu- 
able than all those nameless graces which a more courtly and 
accomplished soldier might possess. 

The expert navigator of the intricacies of the imperial resi- 
dence carried the Varangian through two or three small com- 
plicated courts, forming a part of the extensive Palace of the 


6o 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


Blaquernal,* and entered the building itself by a side-door— « 
watched in like manner by a sentinel of the Varangian Guard, 
whom they passed on being recognized. In the next apart- 
ment was stationed the Court of Guard, where were certain 
soldiers of the same corps amusing themselves at games some- 
what resembling the modern draughts and dice, while they 
seasoned their pastime with frequent application to deep 
flagons of ale, which were furnished to them while passing away 
their hours of duty. Some glances passed between Hereward 
and his comrades, and he would have joined them, or at least 
spoken to them ; for since the adventure of the Mitylenian, 
Hereward had rather thought himself annoyed than distin- 
guished by his moonlight ramble in the company of his com- 
mander, excepting always the short and interesting period 
during which he conceived they were on the way to fight a duel. 
Still, however negligent in the strict observance of the cere- 
monies of the sacred palace, the Varangians had, in their own 
way, rigid notions of calculating their military duty ; in con- 
sequence of which Hereward, without speaking to his com- 
panions, followed his leader through the guard-room, and one 
or two antechambers adjacent, the splendid and luxurious 
furniture of which convinced him that he could be nowhere 
else save in the sacred residence of his master the Emperor. 

At length, having traversed passages and apartments with 
which the captain seemed familiar, and which he treaded with 
a stealthy, silent, and apparently reverential pace, as if, in his 
own inflated phrase, afraid to awaken the sounding echoes of 
those lofty and monumental halls, another species of inhabi- 
tants began to be visible. In different entrances, and in differ- 
ent apartments, the northern soldier beheld those unfortunate 
slaves, chiefly of African descent, raised occasionally under the 
Emperors of Greece to great power and honors, who, in that 
respect, imitated one of the most barbarous points of Oriental 
despotism. These slaves were differently occupied ; some stand- 
ing, as if on guard, at gates or in passages, with their drawn sa- 
bres in their hands ; some were sitting in the Oriental fashion on 
carpets, reposing themselves, or playing at various games, all 
of a character profoundly silent. Not a word passed between 
the guide of Hereward and the withered and deformed beings 
whom they thus encountered. The exchange of a glance with 
the principal soldier seemed all that was necessary to ensure 
both an uninterrupted passage. 

After making their way through several apartments, empty 

* This palace derived its name from the neighboring Blachernian Gate and Bridge. 


COUNT ROBERT OR PARIS. 


6l 


or thus occupied, they at length entered one of black marble, 
or some other dark-colored stone, much loftier and longer than 
the rest. Side passages opened into it, so far as the islander 
could discern, descending from several portals in the wall ; but 
as the oils and gums with which the lamps in these passages 
were fed, diffused a dim vapor around, it was difficult to 
ascertain, from the imperfect light, either the shape of the hall, 
or the style of its architecture. At the upper and lower ends 
of the chamber there was a stronger and clearer light. It was 
when they were in the middle of this huge and long apartment 
that Achilles said to the soldier, in the sort of cautionary whis- 
per which he appeared to have substituted in place of his nat- 
ural voice since he had crossed the bridge of Peril — 

“ Remain here till I return, and stir from this hall on no 
account.” 

“To hear is to obey,” answered the Varangian, an expres- 
sion of obedience, which, like many other phrases and fashions, 
the empire, which, still affected the name of Roman, had bor- 
rowed from the barbarians of the East. Achilles Tatius then 
hastened up the steps which led to one of the side-doors of the 
hall, which being slightly pressed, its noiseless hinge gave way 
and admitted him. 

Left alone to amuse himself as he best could, within the 
limits permitted to him, the Varangian visited in succession 
both ends of the hall, where the objects were more visible than 
elsewhere. The lower end had in its centre a small low-browed 
door of iron. Over it was displayed the Greek crucifix in 
bronze, and around and on every side, the representation of 
shackles, fetter-bolts, and the like, was also executed in bronze, 
and disposed as appropriate ornaments over the entrance. 
The door of the dark archway was half open, and Hereward 
naturally looked in, the orders of his chief not prohibiting his 
satisfying his curiosity thus far. A dense red light, more like 
a distance spark than a lamp, affixed to the wall of what seemed 
a very narrow and winding stair, resembling in shape and size 
a draw-well, the verge of which opened on the threshold of the 
iron door, showed a descent which seemed to conduct to the in- 
fernal regions. The Varangian, however obtuse he might be 
considered by the quick-witted Greeks, had no difficulty in 
comprehending that a staircase having such a gloomy appear- 
ance, and the access to which was by a portal decorated in 
such a melancholy style of architecture, could only lead to the 
dungeons of the imperial palace, the size and complicated num- 
ber of which were neither the least remarkable, nor the least 


62 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


awe-imposing portion of the sacred edifice. Listening pro- 
foundly, he even thought he caught such accents as befit those 
graves of living men, the faint echoing of groans and sighs, 
sounding as it were from the deep abyss beneath. But in this 
respect his fancy probably filled up the sketch which his con- 
jectures bodied out. 

“ I have done nothing,” he thought, “ to merit being im- 
mured in one of these subterranean dens. Surely, though my 
captain, Achilles Tatius, is, under favor, little better than an 
ass, he cannot be so false of word as to train me to prison 
under false pretexts ? I trow he shall first see for the last time 
how the English axe plays, if such is to be the sport of the 
evening. But let us see the upper end of this enormous vault ; 
it may bear a better omen.” 

Thus thinking, and not quite ruling the tramp of his armed 
footstep according to the ceremonies of the place, the large- 
limbed Saxon strode to the upper end of the black marble hall. 
The ornament of the portal here was a small altar, like those 
in the temples of the heathen deities, which projected above 
the centre of the arch. On this altar smoked incense of some 
sort, the fumes of which rose curling in a thin cloud to the roof, 
and thence extending through the hall, enveloped in its column 
of smoke a singular emblem, of which the Varangian could 
make nothing. It was the representation of two human arms 
and hands, seeming to issue from the wall, having the palms 
extended and open, as about to confer some boon on those who 
approached the altar. These arms were formed of bronze, and 
being placed farther back than the altar with its incense, were 
seen through the curling smoke by lamps so disposed as to 
illuminate the whole archway. “ The meaning of this,” 
thought the simple barbarian, “ I should well know how to ex- 
plain, were these fists clenched, and were the hall dedicated to 
the pancratioii , which we call boxing ; but as even these help- 
less Greeks use not their hands without their fingers being closed, 
by St. George I can make out nothing of their meaning.” 

At this instant Achilles entered the black marble hall at the 
same door by which he had left it, and came up to his neophyte, 
as the Varangian might be termed. 

“ Come with me now, Hereward, for here approaches the 
thick of the onset. Now, display the utmost courage that thou 
canst summon up, for believe me, thy credit and name also 
depend on it.” 

“ Fear nothing for either,” said Hereward, “ if the heart or 
hand of one man can bear him through the adventure by the 
help of a toy like this.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


63 

“ Keep thy voice low and submissive, I have told thee a 
score of times,” said the leader, “ and lower thine axe, which, 
as I bethink me, thou hadst better leave in the outer apart- 
ment.” 

“ With your leave, noble captain,” replied Hereward, '* I am 
unwilling to lay aside my bread-winner. I am one of those 
awkward clowns who cannot behave seemly unless I have some- 
thing to occupy my hands, and my faithful battle-axe comes 
most natural to me.” 

“ Keep it then ; but remember thou dash it not about ac- 
cording to thy custom, nor bellow, nor shout, nor cry as in a 
battle-field ; think of the sacred character of the place, which 
exaggerates riot into blasphemy, and remember the persons 
whom thou mayst chance to see, an offence to some of whom, 
it may be, ranks in the same sense with blasphemy against 
Heaven itself.” 

This lecture carried the tutor and the pupil so far as to the 
side-door, and thence inducted them into a species of anteroom, 
from which Achilles led his Varangian forward, until a pair of 
folding-doors, opening into what proved to be a principal 
apartment of the palace, exhibited to the rough-hewn native of 
the north a sight equally new and surprising. 

It was an apartment of the palace of the Blaquernal, dedi- 
cated to the special service of the beloved daughter of the 
Emperor Alexius, the Princess Anna Comnena, known to our 
times by her literary talents, which record the history of her 
father’s reign. She was seated, the queen and sovereign of 
a literary circle, such as an imperial Princess, porphyrogenita, 
or born in the sacred purple chamber itself, could assemble in 
those days, and a glance round will enable us to form an idea 
of her guests or companions. 

The literary princess herself had the bright eyes, straight 
features, and comely and pleasing manners, which all would have 
allowed to the Emperor’s daughter, even if she could not have 
been, with severe truth, said to have possessed them. She was 
placed upon a small bench, or sofa, the fair sex here not being 
permitted to recline, as was the fashion of the Roman ladies. 
A Table before her was loaded with books, plants, herbs, and 
drawings. She sat on a slight elevation, and those who en- 
joyed the intimacy of the Princess, or to whom she wished to 
speak in particular, were allowed, during such sublime colloquy, 
to rest their knees on the little dais, or elevated place where 
her chair found its station, in a posture half standing, half 
kneeling. Three other seats, of different heights, were placed 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


64 

on the dais, and under the same canopy of state which over 
shadowed that of the Princess Anna. 

The first, which strictly resembled her own chair in size and 
convenience, was one designed for her husband, Nicephorus 
Briennius. He was said to entertain or affect the greatest 
respect for his wife’s erudition, though the courtiers were of 
opinion he would have liked to absent himself from her evening 
parties more frequently than was particularly agreeable to the 
Princess Anna and her imperial parents. This was partly ex- 
plained by the private tattle of the court, which averred, that 
the Princess Anna Comnena had been more beautiful when she 
was less learned ; and that, though still a fine woman, she had 
somewhat lost the charms of her person as she became enriched 
in her mind. 

To atone for the lowly fashion of the seat of Nicephorus 
Briennius, it was placed as near to his princess as it could pos- 
sibly be edged by the ushers, so that she might not lose one 
look of her handsome spouse, nor he the least particle of wisdom 
which might drop from the lips of his erudite consort. 

Two other seats of honor, or rather thrones, — for they had 
footstools placed for the support of the feet, rests for the arms, 
and embroidered pillows for the comfort of the back, not to 
mention the glories of the outspreading canopy, — were destined 
for the imperial couple, who frequently attended their daughter’s 
studies, which she prosecuted in public in the way we have 
intimated. On such occasions, the Empress Irene enjoyed the 
triumph peculiar to the mother of an accomplished daughter, 
while Alexius, as it might happen, sometimes listened with com- 
placence to the rehearsal of his own exploits in the inflated 
language of the Princess, and sometimes mildly nodded over her 
dialogues upon the mysteries of philosophy, with the Patriarch 
Zosimus, and other sages. 

All these four distinguished seats for the persons of the 
Imperial family were occupied at the moment which we have 
described, excepting that which ought to have been filled by 
Nicephorus Briennius, the husband of the fair Anna Comnena. 
To his negligence and absence was perhaps owing the angry 
spot on the brow of his fair bride. Beside her on the platform 
were two white-robed nymplis of her household ; female slaves, 
in a word, who reposed themselves on their knees on cushions, 
when their assistance was not wanted as a species of living book- 
desks, to support and extend the parchment rolls, in which the 
Princess recorded her own wisdom, or from which she quoted 
that of others. One of these young maidens, called Astarte, was 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS \ 


6 S 

30 distinguished as a caligrapher, or beautiful writer of various 
alphabets and languages, that she narrowly escaped being sent 
as a present to the Caliph (who could neither read nor write) 
at a time when it was necessary to bribe him into peace. Vio- 
lante, usually called the Muse, the other attendant of the 
Princess, a mistress of the vocal and instrumental art of music, 
was actually sent in a compliment to soothe the temper of 
Robert Guiscard, the Archduke of Apulia, who being aged and 
stone deaf, and the girl under ten years old at the time, returned 
the valued present to the imperial donor, and, with the sel- 
fishness which was one of that wily Norman’s characteristics, 
desired to have some one sent him who could contribute to his 
pleasure, instead of a twangling squalling infant. 

Beneath these elevated seats there sat, or reposed on the 
floor of the hall, such favorites as were admitted. The Patriarch 
Zosimus, and one or two old men, were permitted the use of 
certain lowly stools, which were the only seats prepared for the 
learned members of the Princess’s evening parties, as they would 
have been called in our days. As for the younger magnates, 
the honor of being permitted to join the imperial conversation 
was expected to render them far superior to the paltry accommo- 
dation of a joint-stool. Five or six courtiers, of different dress 
and ages, might compose the party, who either stood, or relieved 
their posture by kneeling, along the verge of an adorned fountain, 
which shed a mist of such very small rain as to dispel almost 
insensibly, cooling the fragrant breeze which breathed from the 
flowers and shrubs, that were so disposed as to send a waste of 
sweets around. One goodly old man, named Michael Agelastes, 
big, burly, and dressed like an ancient Cynic philosopher, was 
distinguished by assuming, in a great measure, the ragged garb 
and mad bearing of that sect, and by his inflexible practice of 
the strictest ceremonies exigible by the Imperial family. He 
was known by an affectation of cynical principle and language, 
and of republican philosophy, strangely contradicted by his 
practical deference to the great. It was wonderful how long 
this man, now sixty years old and upwards, disdained to avail 
himself of the accustomed privilege of leaning, or supporting 
his limbs, and with what regularity he maintained either the 
standing posture or that of absolute kneeling ; but the first was 
so much his usual attitude, that he acquired among his court 
friends the name of Elephas, or the Elephant, because the 
ancients had an idea that the half-reasoning animal, as it is 
called, has joints incapable of kneeling down. 

“ Yet I have seen them kneel when I was in the country of 
5 


66 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


the Gymnosophists,” said a person present on the evening of 
Hereward’s introduction. 

“ To take up their master on their shoulders ? so will ours,’’ 
said the Patriarch Zosimus, with the slight sneer which was 
the nearest advance to a sarcasm that the etiquette of the 
Greek court permitted ; for on all ordinary occasions, it would 
not have offended the Presence more surely, literally to have 
drawn a poniard, than to exchange a repartee in the imperial 
circle. Even the sarcasm, such as it was, would have been 
thought censurable by that ceremonious court in any but the 
Patriarch, to whose high rank some license was allowed. 

Just as he had thus far offended decorum, Achilles Tatius, 
and his soldier Hereward, entered the apartment. The former 
bore him with even more than his usual degree of courtliness, 
as if to set his own good-breeding off by a comparison with the 
inexpert bearing of his follower ; while, nevertheless, he had a 
secret pride in exhibiting, as one under his own immediate and 
distinct command, a man whom he was accustomed to consider 
as one of the finest soldiers in the army of Alexius, whether 
appearance or reality were to be considered. 

Some astonishment followed the abrupt entrance of the new 
comers. Achilles indeed glided into the presence with the easy 
and quiet extremity of respect which intimated his habitude in 
these regions. But Hereward started on his entrance, and, per- 
ceiving himself in company of the court, hastily strove to remedy 
his disorder. His commander, throwing round a scarce visible 
shrug of apology, made then a confidential and monitory sign 
to Hereward to mind his conduct. What he meant was, that 
he should doff his helmet and fall prostrate on the ground. 
But the Anglo-Saxon, unaccustomed to interpret obscure in- 
ferences, naturally thought of his military duties, and advanced 
in front of the Emperor, as when he rendered his military 
homage. He made reverence with his knee, half touched his 
cap, and then recovering and shouldering his axe, stood in 
advance of the imperial chair, as if on duty as a sentinel. 

A gentle smile of surprise went round the circle as they 
gazed on the manly appearance and somewhat unceremonious 
but martial deportment of the northern soldier. The various 
spectators around consulted the Emperor’s face, not knowing 
whether they were to take the intrusive manner of the Varan- 
gian’s entrance as matter of ill-breeding, and manifest their 
horror, or whether they ought rather to consider the bearing 
of the life-guardsman as indicating blunt and manly zeal, and 
therefore to be received with applause. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


67 

It was some little time ere the Emperor recovered himself 
sufficiently to strike a key-note, as was usual upon such occa- 
sions. Alexius Comnenus had been wrapt for a moment into 
some species of slumber, or at least absence of mind. Out of 
this he had been startled by the sudden appearance of the 
Varangian ; for though he was accustomed to commit the 
outer guards of the palace to this trusty corps, yet the deformed 
blacks whom we have mentioned, and who sometimes rose to 
be ministers of state and commanders of armies, were, on all 
ordinary occasions, intrusted with the guard of the interior of 
the palace. Alexius, therefore, awakened from his slumber, 
and the military phrase of his daughter still ringing in his ears 
as she was reading a description of the great historical work, in 
which she had detailed the conflicts of his reign, felt somewhat 
unprepared for the entrance and military deportment of one of 
the Saxon guard, with whom he was accustomed to associate, 
in general, scenes of blows, danger, and death. 

After a troubled glance around, his look rested on Achilles 
Tatius. “ Why here,” he said, “ trusty Follower ? why this 
soldier here at this time of night ? ” Here, of course, was the 
moment for modelling the visages regis ad exemplum ; but, ere 
the Patriarch could frame his countenance into devout appre- 
hension of danger, Achilles Tatius had spoken a word or two, 
which reminded Alexius’ memory that the soldier had been 
brought there by his own special orders. “ Oh, ay ! true, good 
fellow,” said he, smoothing his troubled brow ; “ we had forgot 
that passage among the cares of state.” He then spoke to the 
Varangian with a countenance more frank, and a heartier 
accent than he used to his courtiers ; for, to a despotic mon- 
arch, a faithful life-guardsman is a person of confidence, while 
an officer of high rank is always in some degree a subject of 
distrust. “ Ha ! ” said he, “ our worthy Anglo-Dane, how fares 
he ? ” — This unceremonious salutation surprised all but him to 
whom it was addressed. Hereward answered, accompanying 
his words with a military obeisance which partook of heartiness 
rather than reverence, with a loud unsubdued voice, which 
startled the presence still more that the language was Saxon, 
which these foreigners occasionally used, “ Waes hael Kaisar 
mirrig und machtigh /” — that is, Be of good health, stout and 
mighty Emperor. The Emperor, with a smile of intelligence, 
to show he could speak to his guards in their own foreign lan- 
guage, replied, by the well-known counter-signal. — “ Drink 
kael 

Immediately a page brought a silver goblet of wine. The 


68 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


Emperor put his lips to it, though he scarce tasted the liquor, 
then commanded it to be handed to Hereward, and bade the 
soldier drink. The Saxon did not wait till he was desired a 
second time, but took off the contents without hesitation. A 
gentle smile, decorous as the presence required, passed over 
the assembly, at a feat which, though by no means wonderful 
in a hyperborean, seemed prodigious in the estimation of the 
moderate Greeks. Alexius himself laughed more loudly than 
his courtiers thought might be becoming on their part, and 
mustering what few words of Varangian he possessed, which 
he eked out with Greek, demanded of his life-guardsman — 
“ Well, my bold Briton, or Edward, as men call thee, dost thou 
know the flavor of that wine ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the Varangian, without change of coun- 
tenance, “ I tasted it once before at Laodicea ” 

Here his officer, Achilles Tatius, became sensible that his 
soldier approached delicate ground, and in vain endeavored 
to gain his attention, in order that he might furtively convey 
to him a hint to be silent, or at least take heed what he said 
in such a presence. But the soldier, who, with proper mil- 
itary observance, continued to have his eye and attention 
fixed on the Emperor, as the prince whom he was bound to 
answer or to serve, saw none of the hints, which Achilles at 
length suffered to become so broad, that Zosimus and Protos- 
pathaire exchanged expressive glances, as calling on each other 
to notice the by-play of the leader of the Varangians. 

In the mean while, the dialogue between the Emperor and 
his soldier continued 1 “ How,” said Alexius, “ did this 
draught relish compare with the former ? ” 

“ There is fairer company here, my liege, than that of the 
Arabian archers,” answered Hereward, with a look and bow 
of instinctive good-breeding ; “ Nevertheless, there lacks the 
flavor which the heat of the sun, the dust of the combat, with 
the fatigue of wielding such a weapon as this ” (advancing 
his axe) “ for eight hours together, give to a cup of rare 
wine.” 

“ Another deficiency there might be,” said Agelastes the 
Elephant, “provided I am pardoned hinting at it,” he added, 
with a look to the throne, — “ it might be the smaller size of 
the cup compared with that at Laodicea.” 

“ By Taranis, you say true,” answered the life-guardsman j 
u at Laodicea I used my helmet.” 

Let us see the cups compared together, good friend, ’ 
said Agelastes, continuing his raillery, “ that we may be sure 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


6q 

thou hast not swallowed the present goblet ; for I thought, 
from the manner of the draught, there was a chance of its 
going down with its contents..” 

“ There are some things which I do not easily swallow.” 
answered the Varangian, in a calm and indifferent tone ; “ but 
they must come from a younger and more active man than 
you.” 

The company again smiled to each other, as if to hint 
that the philosopher, though also parcel wit by profession, 
had the worst of the encounter. 

The Emperor at the same time interfered — “ Nor did I 
send for thee hither, good fellow, to be baited by idle taunts.” 

Here Agelastes shrunk back in the circle, as a hound that 
has been rebuked by the huntsman for babbling — and the 
Princess Anna Comnena, who had indicated by her fair feat- 
ures a certain degree of impatience, at length spoke — “ Will 
it then please you, my imperial and much-beloved father, to 
inform those blessed with admission to the Muse’s Temple, 
for what it is that you have ordered this soldier to be this 
night admitted to a place so far above his rank in life ? Per- 
mit me to say we ought not to waste, in frivolous and silly 
jests, the time which is sacred to the welfare of the empire, 
as every moment of your leisure must be.” 

“Our daughter speaks wisely ! ” said the Empress Irene, 
who, like most mothers who do not possess much talent them- 
selves, and are not very capable of estimating it in others, 
was, nevertheless, a great admirer of her favorite daughter’s 
accomplishments, and ready to draw them out on all occa- 
sions. “ Permit me to remark that in this divine and 
selected palace of the Muses, dedicated to the studies of our 
well-beloved and highly-gifted daughter, whose pen will pre- 
serve your reputation, our most imperial husband, till the 
desolation of the universe, and which enlivens and delights 
this society, the very flower of the wits of our sublime Court ; 
— permit me to say that we have, merely by admitting a single 
life-guardsman, given our conversation the character of that 
which distinguishes a barrack.” 

Now the Emperor Alexius Comnenus had the same feel- 
ing with many an honest man in ordinary life when his wife 
begins a long oration, especially as the Empress Irene did 
not always retain the observance consistent with his awful 
rule and right supremacy, although especially severe in exact- 
ing it from all others, in reference to her lord. Therefore, 
though he had felt some pleasure in gaining a short release 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


70 

from the monotonous recitation of the Princess’s history, he 
now saw the necessity of resuming it, or of listening to the 
matrimonial eloquence of the Empress. He sighed, there- 
tore, as he said, “ I crave your pardon, good our imperial 
spouse, and our daughter born in the purple chamber. I re- 
member me, our most amiable and accomplished daughter, 
that last night you wished to know the particulars of the 
battle of Laodicea, with the heathenish Arabs, whom Heaven 
confound. And for certain considerations which moved our- 
selves to add other inquiries to our own recollection, Achilles 
Tatius, our most trusty Follower, was commissioned to intro- 
duce into this place one of those soldiers under his command, 
being such a one whose courage and presence of mind could 
best enable him to remark what passed around him on that 
remarkable and bloody day. And this I suppose to be the 
man brought to us for that purpose.” 

“ If I am permitted to speak, and live,” answered the Fol- 
lower, “ your Imperial Highness, with those divine Princesses, 
whose name is to us as those of blessed saints, have in your 
presence the flower of my Anglo-Danes, or whatsoever unbap- 
tized names is given to my soldiers. He is, as I may say, a 
barbarian of barbarians : for, although in birth and breeding 
unfit to soil with his feet the carpet of this precinct of ac- 
complishment and eloquence, he is so brave — so trusty — so 
devotedly attached — and so unhesitatingly zealous, that ” 

“Enough, good Follower,” said the Emperor; “let us 
only know that he is cool and observant, not confused and 
fluttered during close battle, as we have sometimes observed 
in you and other great commanders — and, to speak truth, have 
even felt in our imperial self on extraordinary occassions. Which 
difference in man’s constitution is not owing to any inferiority of 
courage, but, in us, to a certain consciousness of the importance 
of our own safety to the welfare of the whole, and to a feeling 
of the number of duties which at once devolve on us. Speak 
then, and speak quickly, Tatius ; for I discern that our dearest 
consort, and our thrice fortunate daughter born in the imperial 
chamber of purple, seem to wax somewhat impatient.” 

“ Hereward,” answered Tatius, “ is as composed and obser- 
vant in battle, as another in a festive dance. The dust of war 
is the breath of his nostrils : and he will prove his w 7 orth in 
combat against any four others (Varangians excepted), who 
shall term themselves your Imperial Highness’s bravest ser- 

“ Follower,” said the Emperor, with a displeased look and 
tone, “ instead of instructing these poor, ignorant barbarians 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


71 

in the rules of civilization of our enlightened empire, you 
foster, by such boastful words, the idle pride and fury of their 
temper, which hurries them into brawls with the legions of other 
foreign countries, and even breeds quarrels among themselves. ,, 

“ If my mouth may be opened in the way of most humble 
excuse,” said the Follower, “ I would presume to reply, that I 
but an hour hence talked with this poor ignorant Anglo-Dane 
on the paternal care with which the Imperial Majesty of Greece 
regards the preservation of that concord which unites the follow- 
ers of his standard, and how desirous he is to promote that har- 
mony, more especially amongst the various nations who have 
the happiness to serve you, in spite of the bloodthirsty quarrels 
of the Franks, and other northern men, who are never free 
from civil broil. I think the poor youth’s understanding can 
bear witness to, this much in my behalf.” He then looked 
towards Hereward, who gravely inclined his head in token of 
assent to what his captain said. His excuse thus ratified, 
Achilles proceeded in his apology more firmly. “ What I have 
said even now was spoken without consideration ; for, instead 
of pretending that this Hereward would face four of your Im- 
perial Highness’s servants, I ought to have said, that he was 
willing to defy six of your Imperial Majesty’s most deadly 
enemies , and permit them to choose every circumstance of time, 
arms, and place of combat.” 

“ That hath a better sound,” said the Emperor ; “ and in 
truth, for the information of my dearest daughter, who piously 
has undertaken to record the things which I have been the 
blessed means of doing for the Empire, I earnestly wish that 
she should remember, that though the sword of Alexius hath 
not slept in its sheath, yet he hath never sought his own ag- 
grandizement of fame at the price of bloodshed among his 
subjects.” 

“ I trust,” said Anna Comnena, “that in my humble sketch 
of the life of the princely sire from whom I derive my existence, 
I have not forgot to notice his love of peace, and care for the 
lives of his soldiery, and abhorrence of the bloody manners of 
the heretic Franks, as one of his most distinguishing char- 
acteristics.” 

Assuming then an attitude more commanding, as one who 
was about to claim the attention of the company, the princess 
inclined her head gently around to the audience, and taking a 
roll of parchment from the fair amanuensis, which she had, in a 
most beautiful handwriting, engrossed to her mistress’s dic- 
tation, Anna Comnena prepared to read its contents. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


At this moment, the eyes of the Princess rested for an 
instant on the barbarian Hereward, to whom she deigned this 
greeting — “ Valiant barbarian, of whom my fancy recalls some 
memory, as if in a dream, thou art now to hear a work, which, 
if the author be put into comparison with the subject, might 
be likened to a portrait of Alexander, in executing which, some 
inferior dauber has usurped the pencil of Apelles ; but which 
essay, however it may appear unworthy of the subject in the 
eyes of many, must yet command some envy in those who 
candidly consider its contents, and the difficulty of portraying 
the great personage concerning whom it is written. Still, I 
pray thee, give thine attention to what I have now to read, 
since this account of the battle of Laodicea, the details thereof 
being principally derived from his Imperial Highness, my ex- 
cellent father, from the altogether valiant Protospathaire, his 
invincible general, together with Achilles Tatius, the faithful 
Follower of our victorious Emperor, may nevertheless be in 
some circumstances inaccurate. For it is to be thought, that 
the high offices of those great commanders retained them at a 
distance from some particularly active parts of the fray, in 
order that they might have more cool and accurate opportunity 
to form a judgment upon the whole, and transmit their orders, 
without being disturbed by any thoughts of personal safety. 
Even so, brave barbarian, in the art of embroidery (marvel not 
that we are a proficient in that mechanical process, since it is 
patronized by Minerva, whose studies we affect to follow), we 
reserve to ourselves the superintendence of the entire web, and 
commit to our maidens and others the execution of particular 
parts. Thus, in the same manner, thou, valiant Varangian, 
being engaged in the very thickest of the affray before Lao- 
dicea, mayst point out to us, the unworthy historian of so 
renowned a war, those chances which befell where men fought 
hand to hand, and where the fate of war was decided by 
the edge of the sword. Therefore, dread not, thou bravest 
of the axe-men to whom we owe that victory, and so many 
others, to correct any mistake or misapprehension which we 
may have been led into concerning the details of that glorious 
event.” 

“ Madam,” said the Varangian, “I shall attend with dili- 
gence to what your Highness may be pleased to read to me ; 
although, as to presuming to blame the history of a Princess 
born in the purple, far be such a presumption from me ; still 
less would it become a barbaric Varangian to pass a judgment 
on the military conduct of the Emperor, by whom he is liber- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


73 

ally paid, or of the commander, by whom he is well treated. 
Before an action, if our advice is required, it is ever faithfully 
tendered ; but, according to my rough wit, our censure after 
the field is fought would be more invidious than useful. Touch- 
ing the Protospathaire, if it be the duty of a general to absent 
himself from close action, I can safely say, or swear, were it 
necessary, that the invincible commander was never seen 
by me within a javelin’s cast of aught that looked like danger.” 

This speech, boldly and bluntly delivered, had a general 
effect on the company present. The Emperor himself, and 
Achilles Tatius, looked like men who had got off from a danger 
better than they expected. The Protospathaire labored to con- 
ceal a movement of resentment. Agelastes whispered to the 
Patriarch, near whom he was placed, “ The northern battle-axe 
lacks neither point nor edge.” 

“ Hush ! ” said Zosimus, “ let us hear how this is to end \ 
the Princess is about to speak.” 


CHAPTER FOURTH. 


We heard the Tecbir, so these Arabs call 
Their shout of onset, when with loud acclaim 
They challenged Heaven, as if demanding conquest. 

The battle join’d, and through the barb’rous herd, 

Fight, fight ! and Paradise 1 was all their cry. 

The Siege of Damascus. 

The voice of the northern soldier, although modified by 
feelings of respect to the Emperor, and even attachment to his 
captain, had more of a tone of blunt sincerity, nevertheless, 
than was usually heard by the sacred echoes of the imperial 
palace ; and though the Princess Anna Comnena began to 
think that she had invoked the opinion of a severe judge, she 
was sensible, at the same time, by the deference of his manner, 
that his respect was of a character more real, and his applause, 
should she gain it, would prove more truly flattering, than the 
gilded assent of the whole court of her father. She gazed with 
some surprise and attention on Hereward, already described as 
a very handsome young man, and felt the natural desire to 
please, which is easily created in the mind towards a fine 
person of the other sex. His attitude was easy and bold, but 
neither clownish nor uncourtly. His title of a barbarian 
placed him at once free from the forms of civilized life, and 


74 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


the rules of artificial politeness. But his character for valor, 
and the noble self-confidence of his bearing, gave him a deeper 
interest than would have been acquired by a more studied and 
anxious address, or an excess of reverential awe. 

In short, the Princess Anna Comnena, high in rank as she 
was, and born in the imperial purple, which she herself deemed 
the first of all attributes, felt herself, nevertheless, in preparing 
to resume the recitation of her history, more anxious to obtain 
the approbation of this rude soldier, than that of all the rest of 
the courteous audience. She knew them well, it is true, and 
felt nowise solicitous about the applause which the daughter of 
the Emperor was sure to receive with full hands from those of 
the Grecian court to whom she might choose to communicate 
the productions of her father’s daughter. But she had now a 
judge of a new character, whose applause, if bestowed, must 
have something in it intrinsically real, since it could only be 
obtained by affecting his head or his heart. 

It was perhaps under the influence of these feelings, that the 
Princess was somewhat longer than usual in finding out the 
passage in the roll of history at which she purposed to com- 
mence. It was also noticed that she began her recitation with 
a diffidence and embarrassment surprising to the noble hearers, 
who had often seen her in full possession of her presence of 
mind before what they conceived a more distinguished, and even 
more critical audience. 

Neither were the circumstances of the Varangian such as 
rendered the scene indifferent to him. Anna Comnena had 
indeed attained her fifth lustre, and that is a period after which 
Grecian beauty is understood to commence its decline. How 
long she had passed that critical period was a secret to all but 
the trusted ward-women of the purple chamber. Enough, that 
it was affirmed by the popular tongue, and seemed to be at- 
tested by that bent towards philosophy and literature, which is 
not supposed to be congenial to beauty in its earlier buds, to 
amount to one or two years more. She might be seven-and- 
twenty. 

Still Anna Comnena was, or had very lately been, a beauty 
of the very first rank, and must be supposed to have still re- 
tained charms to captivate a barbarian of the north ; if, indeed, 
he himself was not careful to maintain a heedful recollection 
o the immeasurable distance between them. Indeed, even 
this recollection might hardly have saved Hereward from the 
charms of this enchantress, bold, free-born, and fearless as he 
was ; for, during that time of strange revolutions, there were 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


75 

many instances of successful generals sharing the couch of im- 
perial princesses, whom perhaps they had themselves rendered 
widows, in order to make way for their own pretensions. But, 
besides the influence of other recollections, which the reader 
may learn hereafter, Hereward, though flattered by the unusual 
degree of attention which the Princess bestowed upon him, saw 
in her only the daughter of his Emperor and adopted liege 
lord, and the wife of a noble prince, whom reason and duty 
alike forbade him to think of in any other light. 

It was after one or two preliminary efforts that the Princess 
Anna began her reading with an uncertain voice, which gained 
strength and fortitude as she proceeded with the follow ing 
passage from a well-known part of her history of Alexius 
Comnenus, but which unfortunately has not been republished 
in the Byzantine historians. The narrative cannot, therefore, 
be otherwise than acceptable to the antiquarian reader ; and 
the author hopes to receive the thanks of the learned world 
for the recovery of a curious fragment, which, without his 
exertions, must probably have passed to the gulf of total 
oblivion. 


THE RETREAT OF LAODICEA. 

NOV/ FIRST PUBLISHED FROM THE GREEK OF THE PRINCESS 

comnena’s history of her father. 

“ The sun had betaken himself to his bed in the ocean, 
ashamed, it would seem, to see the immortal army of our most 
sacred Emperor Alexius surrounded by those barbarous hordes 
of unbelieving barbarians, who, as described in our last chapter, 
had occupied the various passes both in front and rear of the 
Romans,* secured during the preceding night by the wily bar- 
barians. Although, therefore, a triumphant course of advance 
had brought us to this point, it now became a serious and 
doubtful question whether our victorious eagles might be able 
to penetrate any farther into the country of the enemy, or even 
to retreat with safety into their own. 

“ The extensive acquaintance of the Emperor with military 
affairs, in which he exceeds most living princes, had induced 
him, on the preceding evening, to ascertain, with marvellous 
exactitude and foresight, the precise position of the enemy. In 
this most necessary service he employed certain light-armed 

* More properly termed the Greeks ; but we follow the phraseology of the fair authoress 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


76 

barbarians, whose habits and discipline had been originally 
derived from the wilds of Syria; and, if I am required to speak 
.according to the dictation of Truth, seeing she ought always 
to sit upon the pen of a historian, I must needs say they were 
infidels like their enemies ; faithfully attached, however, to 
the Roman service, and, as I believe, true slaves of the Em- 
peror, to whom they communicated the information required 
by him respecting the position of his dreaded opponent Jezde- 
gerd. These men did not bring in their information till long 
after the hour when the Emperor usually betook himself to rest. 

“ Notwithstanding this derangement of his most sacred time, 
our imperial father, who had postponed the ceremony of dis- 
robing, so important were the necessities of the moment, con- 
tinued, until deep in the night, to hold a council of his wisest 
chiefs, men whose depth of judgment might have saved a sinking 
world, and who now consulted v/hat was to be done under the 
pressure of the circumstances in which they were now placed. 
And so great was the urgency, that all ordinary observances of 
the household were set aside, since I have heard from those 
who witnessed the fact, that the royal bed was displayed in the 
very room where the council assembled, and that the sacred 
lamp, called the light of the Council, and which always burns 
when the Emperor presides in person over the deliberations of 
his servants was for that night — a thing unknown in our annals 
— fed with unperfumed oil ! ” 

The fair speaker here threw her fine form into an attitude 
which expressed holy horror, and the hearers intimated their 
sympathy in the exciting cause by corresponding signs of in- 
terest ; as to which we need only say, that the sigh of Achilles 
Tatius was the most pathetic ; while the groan of Agelastes the 
Elephant was deepest and most tremendously bestial in its 
sound. Hereward seemed little moved, except by a slight 
motion of surprise at the wonder expressed by the others. The 
Princess, having allowed due time for the sympathy of her 
hearers to exhibit itself, proceeded as follows : — 

“ In melancholy situation, when even the best estab- 
lished and most sacred rites of the imperial household gave 
way to the necessity of a hasty provision for the morrow, the 
opinions of the counsellors were different, according to their 
tempers and habits ; a thing, by the way, which may be re- 
marked as likely to happen among the best and wisest on such 
occasions of doubt and danger. 

“ I do not in this place put down the names and opinions 
of those whose counsels were proposed and rejected, herein 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


77 

paying respect to the secrecy and freedom of debate justly at- 
tached to the imperial cabinet. Enough it is to say, that some 
there were who advised a speedy attack upon the enemy, in the 
direction of our original advance. Others thought it was safer, 
and might be easier, to force our way to the rear, and retreat 
by the same course which had brought us hither ; nor must it be 
concealed that there were persons of unsuspected fidelity, who 
proposed a third course, safer indeed than' the others, but 
totally alien to the mind of our most magnanimous father. They 
recommended that a confidential slave, in company with a 
minister of the interior of our imperial palace, should be sent 
to the tent of Jezdegerd, in order to ascertain upon what terms 
the barbarian would permit our triumphant father to retreat in 
safety at the head of his victorious army. On learning such 
opinion, our imperial father was heard to exclaim, ‘ Sancta 
Sophia ! ’ being the nearest approach to an adjuration which he 
has been known to permit himself, and was apparently about 
to say something violent both concerning the dishonor of the 
advice, and the cowardice of those by whom it was preferred, 
when, recollecting the mutability of human things, and the 
misfortune of several of his Majesty’s gracious predecessors, 
some of whom had been compelled to surrender their sacred per- 
sons to the infidels in the same region, his Imperial Majesty 
repressed his generous feelings, and only suffered his army coun- 
sellors to understand his sentiments by a speech, in which he 
declared so desperate and so dishonorable a course would be 
the last which he would adopt, even in the last extremity of dan- 
ger. Thus did the judgment of this mighty Prince at once reject 
counsel that seemed shameful to his arms, and thereby encour- 
age the zeal of his troops, while privately he kept this postern 
in reserve, which in utmost need might serve for a safe, though 
not altogether, in less urgent circumstances, an honorable re- 
treat. 

“ When the discussion had reached this melancholy crisis, 
the renowned Achilles Tatius arrived with the hopeful intelli- 
gence, that he himself and some soldiers of his corps had dis- 
covered an opening on the left flank of our present encamp- 
ment, by which, making indeed a considerable circuit, but 
reaching, if we marched with vigor, the town of Laodicea, we 
might, by falling back on our own resources, be in some measure 
in surety from the enemy. 

“So soon as this ray of hope darted on the troubled mind 
of our gracious father, he proceeded to make such arrangements 
as might secure the full benefit of the advantage. His Imperial 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


78 

Highness would not permit the brave Varangians, whose battle- 
axes he accounted the flower of his imperial army, to take the 
advanced posts of assailants on the present occasion. He 
repressed the love of battle by which these generous foreigners 
have been at all times distinguished, and directed that the 
Syrian forces in the army, who have been before mentioned, 
should be assembled with as little noise as possible in the 
vicinity of the deserted pass, with instructions to occupy it. 
The good genius of the empire suggested that, as their speech, 
arm, and appearance, resembled those of the enemy, they might 
be permitted unopposed to take post in the defile with their 
light-armed forces, and thus secure it for the passage of the rest 
of the army, of which he proposed that the Varangians, as 
immediately attached to his own sacred person, should form the 
vanguard. The well-known battalions, termed the Immortals, 
came next, comprising the gross of the army, and forming the 
centre and rear. Achilles Tatius, the faithful Follower of his 
Royal Master, although mortified that he was not permitted to 
assume the charge of the rear, which he had proposed for him- 
self and his valiant troops, as the post of danger at the time, 
cheerfully acquiesced, nevertheless, in the arrangement pro- 
posed by the Emperor, as most fit to effect the imperial safety, 
and that of the army. 

“ The imperial orders, as they were sent instantly abroad, 
were in like manner executed with the readiest punctuality, 
the rather that they indicated a course of safety which had 
been almost despaired of even by the oldest soldiers. During 
the dead period of time, when, as the divine Homer tells us, 
gods and men are alike asleep, it was found that the vigilance 
and prudence of a single individual had provided safety for the 
whole Roman army. The pinnacles of the mountain passes 
were scarcely touched by the earliest beams of the dawn, when 
these beams were also reflected from the steel caps and spears 
of the Syrians, under the command of a captain named Monas- 
tras, who, with his tribe, had attached himself to the empire. 
The Emperor, at the head of his faithful Varangians, defiled 
through the passes in order to gain that degree of advance on 
the road to the city of Laodicea which was desired, so as to 
avoid coming into collision with the barbarians. 

“ It was a goodly sight to see the dark mass of northern 
warriors, who now led the van of the army, moving slowly and 
steadily through the defiles of the mountains, around the insu- 
lated rocks and precipices, and surmounting the gentler accliv- 
ities, like the course of a strong and mighty river • while the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


79 

loose bands of archers and javelin-men, armed after the Eastern 
manner, were dispersed on the steep sides or the defiles, and 
might be compared to light foam upon the edge of the torrent. 
In the midst of the squadrons of the life-guard might be seen 
the proud war-horse of his Imperial Majesty, which pawed the 
earth indignantly, as if impatient at the delay which separated 
him from his august burden. The Emperor Alexius himself 
travelled in a litter, borne by eight strong African slaves, that 
he might rise perfectly refreshed if the army should be over- 
taken by the enemy. The valiant Achilles Tatius rode near 
the couch of his master, that none of those luminous ideas, by 
which our august sire so often decided the fate of battle, might 
be lost for want of instant communication to those whose duty 
it was to execute them. I may also say, that there were close 
to the litter of the Emperor, three or four carriages of the 
same kind ; one prepared for the Moon, as she may be termed, 
of the universe, the gracious Empress Irene. Among the 
others which might be mentioned, was that which contained 
the authoress of this history, unworthy as she may be of dis- 
tinction, save as the daughter of the eminent and sacred per- 
sons whom the narration chiefly concerns. In this manner the 
imperial army pressed on through the dangerous defiles, where 
their march was exposed to insults from the barbarians. They 
were happily cleared without any opposition. When we came 
to the descent of the pass which looks down on the city of 
Laodicea, the sagacity of the Emperor commanded the van— 
which, though the soldiers composing the same were heavily 
armed, had hitherto marched extremely fast — to halt, as well 
that they themselves might take some repose and refreshment, 
as to give the rearward forces time to come up, and close 
various gaps which the rapid movement of those in front had 
occasioned in the line of march. 

“ The place chosen for this purpose was eminently beautiful, 
from the small and comparatively insignificant ridge of hills 
which melt irregularly down into the plains stretching between 
the pass which we occupied and Laodicea. The town was 
about one hundred stadia distant, and some of our more 
sanguine warriors pretended that they could already discern its 
towers and pinnacles, glittering in the early beams of the sun, 
which had not as yet risen high into the horizon. A mountain 
torrent, which found its source at the foot of a huge rock, that 
yawned to give it birth, as if struck by the rod of the prophet 
Moses, poured its liquid treasure down to the more level 
country, nourishing herbage and even large trees, in its descent, 


8o 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


until, at the distance of some four or five miles, the stream, al 
least in dry seasons, was lost amid heaps of sand and stones, 
which in the rainy season marked the strength and fury of its 
current. 

“ It was pleasant to see the attention of the Emperor to the 
comforts of the companions and guardians of his march. The 
trumpets from time to time gave license to various parties of 
the Varangians to lay down their arms, to eat the food which 
was distributed to them, and quench their thirst at the pure " 
stream, which poured its bounties down the hill, or they might 
be seen to extend their bulky forms upon the turf around them. 
The Emperor, his most serene spouse, and the princess and 
ladies, were also served with breakfast, at the fountain formed 
by the small brook in its very birth, and which the reverent 
feelings of the soldiers had left unpolluted by vulgar touch, for 
the use of that family, emphatically said to be born in the 
purple. Our beloved husband was also present on this occasion, 
and was among the first to detect one of the disasters of the 
day. For, although all the rest of the repast had been, by the 
dexterity of the officers of the imperial mouth, so arranged, 
even on so awful an occasion, as to exhibit little difference 
from the ordinary provisions of the household, yet, when his 
Imperial Highness called for wine, behold, not only was the 
sacred liquor, dedicated to his own peculiar imperial use, 
wholly exhausted or left behind, but, to use the language of 
Horace, not the vilest Sabine vintage could be procured ; so 
that his Imperial Highness was glad to accept the offer of a 
rude Varangian, who proffered his modicum of decocted barley, 
which these barbarians prefer to the juice of the grape. The 
Emperor, nevertheless, accepted of this coarse tribute.” 

“ Insert,” said the Emperor, who had been hitherto either 
plunged in deep contemplation, or in an incipient slumber, 

“ insert, I say, these very words : ‘ And with the heat of the 
morning, and anxiety of so rapid a march, with a numerous 
enemy in his rear, the Emperor was so thirsty, as never in his . 
life to think beverage more delicious.’ ” 

In obedience to her imperial father’s orders, the Princess 
resigned the manuscript to the beautiful slave by whom it was 
written, repeating to the fair scribe the commanded addition, 
requiring her to note it, as made by the express sacred com- 
mand of the Emperor, and then proceeded thus : — “ More I 
had said here respecting the favorite liquor of ycur Imperial 
Highness’s faithful Varangians ; but your highness having 
once graced it with a word of commendation, this ail, as they 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


81 


call it, doubtless because removing all disorders, which they 
term ‘ ailments,’ becomes a theme too lofty for the discussion 
of any inferior person. Suffice it to say, that thus were we all 
pleasantly engaged, the ladies and slaves trying to find some 
amusement for the imperial ears ; the soldiers, in a long line 
down the ravine, seen in different postures, some straggling to 
the water-course, some keeping guard over the arms of their 
comrades, in which duty they relieved each other, while body 
after body of the remaining troops, under command of the Pro- 
tospathaire, and particularly those called Immortals,* joined the 
main army as they came up. Those soldiers who were already 
exhausted were allowed to take a short repose, after which 
they were sent forward, with directions to advance steadily on 
the road to Laodicea ; while their leader was instructed, so soon 
as he should open a free communication with that city, to send 
thither .a command for reinforcements and refreshments, not 
forgetting fitting provision of the sacred wine for the imperial 
mouth. Accordingly, the Roman bands of Immortals and 
others had resumed their march, and held some way on their 
journey, it being the imperial pleasure that the Varangians, 
lately the vanguard, should now form the rear of the whole 
army, so as to bring off in safety the Syrian light troops, by 
whom the hilly pass was still occupied, when we heard upon the 
other side of this defile, which we had traversed with so much 
safety, the awful sound of the Lelies , as the Arabs name their 
shout of onset, though in what language it is expressed it 
would be hard to say. Perchance some in this audience may 
enlighten my ignorance.” 

“ May I speak and live ! ” said the Acoulouthos Achilles, 
proud of his literary knowledge, “ the words are, Alla ilia alia , 
Mohamed resoul alla."\ These, or something like them, contain 
the Arabs’ profession of faith, which they always call out when 
they join battle ; I have heard them many times.” 

“ And so have I,” said the Emperor ; “ and, as thou didst, 

I warrant me, I have sometimes wished myself anywhere else 
than within hearing.” 

All the circle were alive to hear the answer of Achilles 
Tatius. He was too good a courtier, however, to make any im- 
prudent reply. “ It was my duty,” he replied, “ to desire to be 
as near your Imperial Highness as your faithful Follower ought, 
wherever you might wish yourself for the time.” 

* The A0a.va.Toi, or Immortals, ol the army of Constantinople, were a select body, so 
named in imitation of the ancient Persians. They were first embodied, according to 
Ducange, by Michael Ducas. 

* i. e., u God is God — Mahomet is the prophet of God.” 

6 


82 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


Agelastes and Zosimus exchanged looks, and the Princess 
Anna Comnena proceded in her recitation. 

“ The cause of these ominous sounds, which came in wild 
confusion up the rocky pass, was soon explained to us by a 
dozen cavaliers, to whom the task of bringing intelligence had 
been assigned. 

“These informed us, that the barbarians, whose host had 
been dispersed around the position in which we had encamped 
the preceding day, had not been enabled to get their forces 
together until our light troops were evacuating the post they 
had occupied for securing the retreat of our army. They were 
then drawing off from the tops of the hills into the pass itself, 
when, in despite of the rocky ground, they were charged furi- 
ously by Jezdegerd, at the head of a large body of his followers, 
which, after repeated exertions, he had at length brought to 
operate on the rear of the Syrians. Notwithstanding that the 
pass was unfavorable for cavalry, the personal exertions of the 
infidel chief made his followers advance with a degree of reso- 
lution unknown to the Syrians of the Roman army, who, find- 
ing themselves at a distance from their companions, formed the 
injurious idea that they were left there to be sacrificed, and 
thought of flight in various directions, rather than of a com- 
bined and resolute resistance. The state of affairs, therefore, 
at the farther end of the pass, was less favorable than we 
could wish, and those whose curiosity desired to see something 
which might be termed the rout of the rear of an army, beheld 
the Syrians pursued from the hill-tops, overwhelmed, and indi- 
vidually cut down and made prisoners by the bands of caitiff 
Mussulmans. 

“ His Imperial Highness looked upon the scene of battle 
for a few minutes, and, much commoved at what he saw, was 
somewhat hasty in his directions to the Varangians to resume 
their arms, and precipitate their march towards Laodicea • 
whereupon one of those northern soldiers said boldly, though 
in opposition to the imperial command, “ If we attempt to go 
hastily down this hill, our rearguard will be confused, not only 
by our own hurry, but by these runaway scoundrels of Svrians 
who in their headlong flight will not fail to mix themselves 
among our ranks. Let two hundred Varangians, who will live 
and die for the honor of England, abide in the very throat of 
this pass with me, while the rest escort the Emperor to this 
Laodicea or whatever it is called. We may perish in our 
defence, but we shall die in our duty; and I have little doubt 
but we shall furnish such a meal as will stay the stomach of 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


83 


these yelping hounds from seeking any further banquet this 
day.” 

“ My imperial father at once discovered the importance of 
this advice, though it made him well-nigh weep to see with 
what unshrinking fidelity these poor barbarians pressed to fill 
up the number of those who were to undertake this desperate 
duty — with what kindness they took leave of their comrades, 
and with what jovial shouts they followed their sovereign with 
their eyes as he proceeded on his march down the hill, leaving 
them behind to resist and perish. The Imperial eyes were 
filled with tears ; and I am not ashamed to confess, that amid 
the terror of the moment, the Empress, and I myself, forgot our 
rank in paying a similar tribute to these bold and self-devoted 
men. 

“We left their leader carefully arraying his handful of com- 
rades in defence of the pass, where the middle path was occu- 
pied by their centre, while their wings on either side were so 
disposed as to act upon the flanks of the enemy, should he 
rashly press upon such as appeared opposed to him in the road. 
We had not proceeded half way towards the plain, when a 
dreadful shout arose, in which the yells of the Arabs were 
mingled with the deep and more regular shout which these 
strangers usually repeat thrice, as well when bidding hail to 
their commanders and princes, as when in the act of engaging 
in battle. Many a look was turned back by their comrades, and 
many a form was seen in the ranks which might have claimed 
the chisel of a sculptor, while the soldier hesitated whether to 
follow the line of his duty, which called him to march forward 
w.th his EniDeror, or the impulse of courage, which prompted 
him to rush back to join his companions. Discipline, however, 

pre “ a An d ho a ur d had eDpsed.Tnring^ich we heard, from time to 

covered with foam, and had obviously, £e 

fineness of his ^"hfdtuen by the 

chanced of battle into the possession’ of the northern warrior 
The broad axe which the Varangian bore was also st5 P n ^ 

IS- » 

your march at more leisure. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ ‘ Where is Jezdegerd ? ’ said the Emperor, who had many 
reasons for dreading this celebrated chief. 

“‘Jezdegerd,’ continued the Varangian, ‘is where brave 
men are who fall in their duty.’ 

“ ‘ And that is ’ — said the Emperor, impatient to know dis- 
tinctly the fate of so formidable an adversary 

“ ‘ Where I am now going,’ answered the faithful soldier, 
who dropped from his horse as he spoke, and expired at the 
feet of the litter-bearers. 

“ The Emperor called to his attendants to see that the body 
of this faithful retainer, to whom he destined an honorable 
sepulchre, was not left to the jackal or vulture ; and some of his 
brethren, the Anglo-Saxons, among whom he was a man of no 
mean repute, raised the body on their shoulders, and resumed 
their march with this additional encumbrance, prepared to fight 
for their precious burden, like the valiant Menelaus for the 
body of Patroclus.” 

The Princess Anna Comnena here naturally paused ; for 
having attained what she probably considered as the rounding 
of a period, she was willing to gather an idea of the feelings' of 
her audience. Indeed, but that she had been intent upon her 
own manuscript, the emotions of the foreign soldier must have 
more early attracted her attention. In the beginning of her 
recitation, he had retained the same attitude which he had at 
first assumed, stiff and rigid as a sentinel upon duty, and ap- 
parently remembering nothing save that he was performing that 
duty in presence of the imperial court. As the narative ad- 
vanced, however, he appeared to take more interest in what 
was read. The anxious fears expressed by the various leaders 
in the midnight council, he listened to with a smile of suppressed 
contempt, and he almost laughed at the praises bestowed upon 
the leader of his own corps, Achilles Tatius. Nor did even 
the name of the Emperor, though listened to respectfully, gain 
that applause for which his daughter fought so hard, and used 
so much exaggeration. 

Hitherto the Varangian’s countenance indicated very slight- 
ly any internal emotions ; but they appeared to take a deeper 
hold on his mind as she came to the description of the halt 
after the main army had cleared the pass ; the unexpected ad- 
vance of the Arabs ; the retreat of the column which escorted 
the Emperor ; and the account of the distant engagement. He 
lost, on hearing the narration of these events, the rigid and 
constrained look of a soldier, who listened to the history of his 
Emperor with the same feelings with which he would have 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


85 

mounted guard at his palace. His color began to come and 
go ; his eyes to fill and to sparkle ; his limbs to become more 
agitated than their owner seemed to ascend to ; and his whole 
appearance was changed into that of a listener, highly interested 
by the recitation which he hears, and insensible, or forgetful, of 
whatever else is passing before him, as well as of the quality 
of those who are present. 

As the historian proceeded, Hereward became less able to 
conceal his agitation ; and at the moment the Princess looked 
round, his feelings became so acute, that, forgetting where he 
was, he dropped his ponderous axe upon the floor, and, clasp- 
ing his hands together, exclaimed — “ My unfortunate brother ! ” 

All were startled by the clang of the falling weapon, and 
several persons at once attempted to interfere, as called upon 
to explain a circumstance so unusual. Achilles Tatius made 
some small progress in a speech designed to apologize for the 
rough mode of venting his sorrows to which Hereward had 
given way, by assuring the eminent persons present that the 
poor uncultivated barbarian was actually younger brother to 
him who had commanded and fallen at the memorable defile. 
The Princess said nothing, but was evidently struck and affected, 
and not ill-pleased, perhaps, at having given rise to feelings of 
interest so flattering to her as an authoress. The others, each 
in their character, uttered incoherent words of what was meant 
to be consolation ; for distress which flows from a natural 
cause generally attracts sympathy even from the most artificial 
characters. The voice of Alexius silenced all these imperfect 
speakers : “ Hah, my brave soldier, Edward ! ” said the 

Emperor, “ I must have been blind that I did not sooner rec- 
ognize thee, as I think there is a memorandum entered, re- 
specting five hundred pieces of gold due from us to Edward the 
Varangian ; we have it in our secret scroll of such liberalities 
for which we stand indebted to our servitors, nor shall the pay- 
ment be longer deferred.” 

“ Not to me, if it may please you, my liege,” said the Anglo- 
Dane, hastily composing his countenance into its rough gravity 
of lineament, “ lest it should be to one who can claim no in- 
terest in your Imperial munificence. My name is Hereward ; 
that of Edward is borne by three of my companions, all of them 
as likely as I to have deserved your Highness’s reward for the 
faithful performance of their duty.” 

Many a sign was made by Tatius in order to guard his sol* 
dier against the folly of declining the liberality of the Emperor. 
Agelastes spoke more plainly: “Young man,” he said, “re 


86 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


joice in an honor so unexpected, and answer henceforth to no 
other name save that of Edward, by which it hath pleased the 
light of the world, as it poured a ray upon thee, to distinguish 
thee from other barbarians. What is to thee the font-stone, or 
the priest officiating thereat, shouldst thou have derived from 
either any epithet different from that by which it hath now 
pleased the Emperor to distinguish thee from the common mass 
of humanity, and by which proud distinction thou hast now a 
right to be known ever afterwards ? ” 

“ Hereward was the name of my father,” said the soldier, 
who had now altogether recovered his composure. “ I cannot 
abandon it while I honor his memory in death. Edward is 
the title of my comrade — I must not run the risk of usurping 
his interest.” 

“ Peace all ! ” interrupted the Emperor. “ If we have made 
a mistake, we are rich enough to right it ; nor shall Hereward 
be the poorer, if an Edward shall be found to merit this gratuity.” 

“ Your Highness may trust that to your affectionate consort,” 
answered the Empress Irene. 

“ His most sacred Highness,” said the Princess Anna Com- 
nena, “ is so avariciously desirous to do whatever is good and 
gracious, that he leaves no room even for his nearest connections 
to display generosity or munificence. Nevertheless, I, in my 
degree, will testify my gratitude to this brave man ; for where 
his exploits are mentioned in this history, I will cause to be re- 
corded, — ‘ This feat was done by Hereward the Anglo-Dane, 
whom it hath pleased his Imperial Majesty to call Edward. 
Keep this, good youth,” she continued, bestowing at the same 
time a ring of price, “ in token that we will not forget our 
engagement.” 

Hereward accepted the token, with a profound obeisance, 
and a discomposure which his station rendered not unbecom- 
ing. It was obvious to most persons present, that the gratitude 
of the beautiful Princess was expressed in a manner more 
acceptable to the youthful life-guardsman, than that of Alexius 
Comnenus. He took the ring with great demonstration of 
thankfulness : — “ Precious relic ! ” he said, as he saluted this 
pledge of esteem by pressing it to his lips ; “ we may not remain 
long together, but be assured,” bending reverently to the 
Princess, “ that death alone shall part us.” 

“ Proceed, our princely daughter,” said the Empress Irene ; 
“ you have done enough to show that valor is precious to her 
who can confer fame, whether it be found in a Roman or a 
barbarian.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


87 

The princess resumed her narrative with some slight appear- 
ance of embarrassment. 

“ Our movement upon Laodicea was now resumed, and con- 
tinued with good hopes on the part of those engaged in the 
march. Yet instinctively we could not help casting our eyes to 
the rear, which had been so long the direction in which we 
feared attack. At length, to our surprise, a thick cloud of dust 
was visible on the descent of the hill, half-way betwixt us and 
the place at which we had halted. Some of the troops who com- 
posed our retreating body, particularly those in the rear, began 
to exclaim, ‘ The Arabs ! the Arabs ! 5 and their march assumed 
a more precipitate character when they believed themselves 
pursued by the enemy. But the Varangian guards affirmed 
with one voice, that the dust was raised by the remains of their 
own comrades, who, left in the defence of the pass, had marched 
off after having so valiantly maintained the station entrusted to 
them. They fortified their opinion by professional remarks 
that the cloud of dust was more concentrated than if raised by 
the Arab horse, and they even pretended to assert, from their 
knowledge of such cases, that the number of their comrades 
had been much diminished in the action. Some Syrian horse- 
men, despatched to reconnoitre the approaching body, brought 
intelligence corresponding with the opinion of the Varangians 
in every particular. The portion of the body-guard had beaten 
back the Arabs, and their gallant leader had slain their chief 
Jezdegerd, in which service he was mortally wounded, as this 
history hath already mentioned. The survivors of the detach' 
ment, diminished by one half, were now on their march to join 
the Emperor, as fast as the encumbrance of bearing their 
wounded to a place of safety would permit. 

“ The Emperor Alexius, with one of those brilliant and 
benevolent ideas which mark his paternal character towards 
his soldiers, ordered all the litters, even that for his own most 
sacred use, to be instantly sent back to relieve the bold' Varan- 
gians of the task of bearing the wounded. The shouts of the 
Varangians’ gratitude may be more easily conceived than de- 
scribed, when they beheld the Emperor himself descend from his 
litter, like an ordinary cavalier, and assume his war-horse, at 
the same time that the most sacred Empress, as well as the 
authoress of this history, with other princesses born in the 
purple, mounted upon mules in order to proceed upon the 
march, while their litters were unhesitatingly assigned for the 
accommodation of the wounded men. This was indeed a mark, 
as well of military sagacity as of humanity ; for the relief 


88 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


afforded to the bearers of the wounded, enabled the survivors 
of those who had defended the defile at the fountain to join us 
sooner than would otherwise have been possible. 

“ It was an awful thing to see those men who had left us in 
the full splendor which military equipment gives to youth and 
strength, again appearing in diminished numbers — their armor 
shattered — their shields full of arrows — their offensive weapons 
marked with blood, and they themselves exhibiting all the signs 
of desperate and recent battle. Nor was it less interesting to 
remark the meeting of the soldiers who had been engaged with 
the comrades whom they had rejoined. The Emperor, at the 
suggestion of the trusty Acoulouthos, permitted them a few 
moments to leave their ranks, and learn from each other the 
fate of the battle. 

“ As the two bands mingled, it seemed a meeting where grief 
and joy had a contest together. The most rugged of these bar- 
barians, — and I who saw it can bear witness to the fact, — as 
he welcomed with a grasp of his strong hand some comrade 
whom he had given up for lost, had his large blue eyes filled 
with tears at hearing of the loss of some one whom he had hoped 
might have survived. Other veterans reviewed the standards 
which had been in the conflict, satisfied themselves that they 
had all been brought back in honor and safety, and counted 
the fresh arrow : shots with which they had been pierced, in 
addition to similar marks of former battles. All were loud in 
the praises of the brave young leader they had lost, nor were 
the acclamations less general in laud of him who had succeeded 
to the command, who brought up the party of his deceased 
brother — and whom,” said the Princess, in a few words, which 
seemed apparently interpolated for the occasion, “ I now assure 
of the high honor and estimation in which he is held by the 
author of this history — that is, I would say, by every member 
of the imperial family— for his gallant services in such an 
important crisis.” 

Having hurried over her tribute to her friend the Varangian, 
in which emotions mingled that are not willingly expressed 
before so many hearers, Anna Comnena proceeded with com- 
posure in the part of her history which was less personal. 

“ We had not much time to make more observations on 
what passed among those brave soldiers ; for a few minutes 
having been allowed to their feelings, the trumpet sounded 
the advance towards Laodicea, and we soon beheld the town, 
not about four miles from us, in fields which were chiefly 
covered with trees. Apparently the garrison had already some 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


89 

notice of our approach, for carts and wains were seen advanc- 
ing from the gates with refreshments, which the heat of the day, 
the length of the march, and columns of dust, as well as the 
want of water, had rendered of the last necessity to us. The 
soldiers joyfully mended their pace in order to meet the sooner 
with the supplies of which they stood so much in need. But 
as the cup doth not carry in all cases the liquid treasure to the 
lips for which it was intended, however much it may be longed 
for, what was our mortification to behold a cloud of Arabs issue 
at full gallop from the wooded plain betwixt the Roman army 
and the city, and throw themselves upon the wagons, slaying 
the drivers, and making havoc and spoil of the contents ! This 
we afterwards learned was a body of the enemy headed by 
Varanes, equal in military fame, among those infidels, to 
Jezdegerd, his slain brother. When this chieftain saw that it 
was probable that the Varangians would succeed in their des- 
perate defence of the pass, he put himself at the head of a large 
body of cavalry ; and as these infidels are mounted on horses 
unmatched either in speed or wind, performed a long circuit, 
traversed the stony ridge of hills at a more northerly defile, and 
placed himself in ambuscade in the wooded plain I have men- 
tioned, with the hope of making an unexpected assault upon 
the Emperor and his army, at the very time when they might 
be supposed to reckon upon an undisputed retreat. This sur- 
prise would certainly have taken place, and it is not easy to 
say what might have been the consequence, had not the unex- 
pected appearance of the train of wagons awakened the un- 
bridled rapacity of the Arabs, in spite of their commander’s 
prudence, and attempts to restrain them. In this manner the 
proposed ambuscade was discovered. 

“ But Varanes, willing still to gain some advantage from the 
rapidity of his movements, assembled as many of his horsemen 
as could be collected from the spoil, and pushed forward tow- 
ards the Romans, who had stopped short on their march at 
so unlooked-for an apparition. There was an uncertainty and 
wavering in our first ranks which made their hesitation known 
even to so poor a judge of military demeanor as myself. On 
the contrary, the Varangians joined in a unanimous cry of 
‘ Bills’ * (that is, in their language, battle-axes) ‘ to the front ! ’ 
and the Emperor’s most gracious will acceding to their valorous 
desire, they pressed forward from the rear to the head of the 
column. I can hardly say how this manoeuvre was executed, 
but it was doubtless by the wise directions of my most serene 

* Villehardouin says, “ Les Anglois et Danois mult bien combattoint avec leurs haches .” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS ■ 


90 

father, distinguished for his presence of mind upon such 
difficult occasions. It was, no doubt, much facilitated by the 
good will of the troops themselves; the Roman bands, called 
the Immortals, showing, as it seemed to me, no less desire to 
fall into the rear, than did the Varangians to occupy the places 
which the Immortals left vacant in front. The manoeuvre was 
so happily executed, that before Varanes and his Arabs had 
arrived at the van of our troops, they found it occupied by the 
inflexible guard of northern soldiers. I might have seen with 
my own eyes, and called upon them as sure evidences of that 
which chanced upon the occasion. But, to confess the truth, 
my eyes were little used to look upon such sights ; for of 
Varanes’s charge -I only beheld, as it were, a thick cloud of 
dust rapidly driven forward, through which were seen the 
glittering points of lances, and the waving plumes of turban’d 
cavaliers imperfectly visible. The tecbir was so loudly uttered, 
that I was scarcely aware that kettle-drums and brazen cymbals 
were sounding in concert with it. But this wild and outrageous 
storm was met as effectually as if encountered by a rock. 

“The Varangians, unshaken by the furious charge of the 
Arabs, received horse and rider with a shower of blows from 
their massive battle axes, which the bravest of the enemy could 
not face, nor the strongest endure. The guards strengthened 
their ranks also, by the hindmost pressing so close upon those 
that went before, after the manner of the ancient Macedonians, 
that the fine-limbed, though slight steeds of these Idumeans 
could not make the least inroad upon the northern phalanx. 
The bravest men, the most gallant horses, fell in the first rank. 
The weighty, though short, horse javelins, flung from the rear 
ranks of the brave Varangians, with good aim and sturdy arm, 
completed the confusion of the assailants, who turned their 
back in affright, and fled from the field in total confusion. 

“ The enemy thus repulsed, we proceeded on our march, 
and only halted when we recovered our half-plundered wagons. 
Here, also, some invidious remarks were made by certain offi- 
cers of the interior of the household, who had been on duty 
over the stores, and having fled from their posts on the assault 
of the infidels, had only returned upon their being repulsed. 
These men, quick in malice, though slow in perilous service, 
reported that, on this occasion, the Varangians so far forgot 
their duty as to consume a part of the sacred wine reserved for 
the imperial lips alone. It would be criminal to deny that this 
was a great and culpable oversight ; nevertheless, our imperial 
hero passed it over as a pardonable offence ; remarking in a 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


91 

jesting manner, that since he had drunk the aU t as they termed 
it, of his trusty guard, the Varangians had acquired a right to 
quench the thirst, and to relieve the fatigue, which they had 
undergone that day in his defence, though they used for these 
purposes the sacred contents of the imperial cellar. 

“ In the mean time, the cavalry of the army were despatched 
in pursuit of the fugitive Arabs ; and having succeded in driv- 
ing them behind the chain of hills which had so recently divid- 
ed them from the Romans, the imperial arms might justly be 
considered as having obtained a complete and glorious victory. 

“ We are now to mention the. rejoicings of the citizens of 
Laodicea, who, having witnessed from their ramparts, with 
alternate fear and hope, the fluctuations of the battle, now de- 
scended to congratulate the imperial conqueror.” 

Here the fair narrator was interrupted. The principal en- 
trance of the apartment flew open, noiselessly indeed, but with 
both folding leaves at once, not as if to accommodate the en- 
trance of an ordinary courtier, studying to create as little dis- 
turbance as possible, but as if there was entering a person, who 
ranked so high as to make it indifferent how much attention 
was drawn to his motions. It could only be one born in the 
purple, or nearly allied to it, to whom such freedom was law- 
ful ; and most of the guests, knowing who were likely to appear 
in that Temple of the Muses, anticipated, from the degree of 
bustle, the arrival of Nicephorus Briennius, the son-in-law of 
Alexius Comnenus, the husband to the fair historian, and in 
the rank of Caesar, which, however, did not at that period im- 
ply, as in the early ages, the dignity of second person in 
the empire. The policy of Alexius had interposed more than 
one person of condition between the Caesar and his original 
rights and rank, which had once been second to those only of 
the Emperor himself. 


9 2 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


CHAPTER FIFTH. 


The storm increases — ’tis no sunny shower, 

Foster’d in the moist breast of March or April, 

Or such as parched Summer cools his lip with : 

Heaven’s windows are flung wide ; the inmost deepa 
Call in hoarse greeting one upon another ; 

On comes the flood in all its foaming horrors, 

And where’s the dike shall stop it ! * 

The Deluge, a Poem. 

The distinguished individual who entered was a noble Gre- 
cian, of stately presence, whose habit was adorned with ever)) 
mark of dignity, saving those which Alexius had declared 
sacred to the emperor’s own person and that of the Sebasto- 
crator, whom he had established as next in rank to the head of 
the empire. Nicephorus Briennius, who was in the bloom of 
youth, retained all the marks of that manly beauty which had 
made the match acceptable to Anna Comnena ; while po- 
litical considerations, and the desire of attaching a powerful 
house as friendly adherents of the throne, recommended the 
union to the Emperor. 

We have already hinted that the royal bride had, though in 
no great degree, the very doubtful advantage of years. Of her 
literary talents we have seen tokens. Yet it was not believed 
by those who best knew, that, with the aid of those claims to 
respect, Anna Comnena was successful in possessing the un- 
limited attachment of her handsome husband. To treat her 
with appearent neglect her connection with the crown rendered 
impossible ; while, on the other hand, the power of Nicephorus’s 
family was too great to permit his being dictated to even by 
the Emperor himself. He was possessed of talents, as it was 
believed, calculated both for war and peace. His advice was, 
therefore, listened to, and his assistance required, so that he 
claimed complete liberty with respect to his own time, which he 
sometimes used with less regular attendance upon the Temple 
of the Muses than the goddess of the place thought herself 
entitled to, or than the Empress Irene was disposed to exact 
on the part of her daughter. The good-humored Alexius ob- 
served a sort of neutrality in this matter, and kept it as much 
as possible from becoming visible to the public, conscious that 

* [These lines were penned improptu by the Author one wet afternoon in February, 
1831, while taking refuge in the late Mr. Cadell’s house, Edinburgh.] 


ANNA COMNENA READING THE ALEXIAD 



















COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


93 

it required the whole united strength of his family to maintain 
his place in so agitated an empire. 

He pressed his son-in-law’s hand, as Nicephorus, passing 
his father-in-law’s seat, bent his knee in token of homage. The 
constrained manner of the Empress indicated a more cold re- 
ception of her son-in-law, while the fair muse herself scarcely 
deigned to signify her attention to his arrival, when her hand- 
some mate assumed the vacant seat by her side, which we have 
already made mention of. 

There was an awkward pause, during which the imperial 
son-in-law, coldly received when he expected to be welcomed, 
attempted to enter into some slight conversation with the fair 
slave Astarte, who knelt behind her mistress. This was inter- 
rupted by the Princess commanding her attendant to enclose 
the manuscript within its appropriate casket, and convey it with 
her own hands to the cabinet of Apollo, the usual scene of 
the Princess’s studies, as the Temple of the Muses was that 
commonly dedicated to her recitations. 

The Emperor himself was the first to break an unpleasant 
silence. “Fair son-in-law,” he said, “though it now wears 
something late in the night, you will do yourself wrong if you 
permit our Anna to send away that volume, with which this 
company have been so delectably entertained that they may 
well say that the desert hath produced roses, and the barren 
rocks have poured forth milk and honey, so agreeable is the 
narrative of a toilsome and dangerous campaign, in the language 
of our daughter.” 

“ The Caesar,” said the Empress, “ seems to have little taste 
for such dainties as this family can produce. He hath of late 
repeatedly absented himself from this Temple of the Muses, 
and found doubtless more agreeable conversation and amuse- 
ment elsewhere.” 

“ I trust, madam,” said Nicephorus, “ that my taste may 
vindicate me from the charge implied. But it is natural that 
our sacred father should be most delighted with the milk and 
honey which is produced for his own special use.” 

The Princess spoke in the tone of a handsome woman of- 
fended by her lover, and feeling the offence, yet not indisposed 
to a reconciliation. 

“ If,” she said “ the deeds of Nicephorus Briennius are less 
frequently celebrated in that poor roll of parchment than those 
of my illustrious father, he must do me the justice to remember 
that such was his own special request ; either proceeding from 
that modesty which is justly ascribed to him as serving to 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


94 

soften and adorn his other attributes, or because he with justice 
distrusts his wife’s power to compose their eulogium.” 

“We will then summon back Astarte,” said the Empress, 
“ who cannot yet have carried her offering to the cabinet of 
Apollo.” 

“With your imperial pleasure,” said Nicephorus, “ it might 
incense the Pythian god were a deposit to be recalled of which 
he alone can fitly estimate the value. I came hither to speak 
with the Emperor upon pressing affairs of state, and not to hold 
a literary conversation with a company which I must needs say 
is something of a miscellaneous description, since I behold an 
ordinary life-guardsman in the imperial circle.” 

“ By the rood, son-in-law,” said Alexius, “ you do this gallant 
man wrong. He is the brother of that brave Anglo-Dane who 
secured the victory at Laodicea by his valiant conduct and 
death ; he himself is that Edmund — or Edward — or Hereward — 
to whom we are ever bound for securing the success of thatvic* 
torious day. He was called into our presence, son-in-law, since 
it imports that you should know so much, to refresh the mem- 
ory of my Follower, Achilles Tatius, as well as mine own, con- 
cerning some transactions of the day of which we had become 
in some degree oblivious.” 

“ Truly, imperial sir,” answered Briennius, “ I grieve that, 
by having intruded on such important researches, I may have, 
in some degree, intercepted a portion of that light which is to 
illuminate future ages. Methinks that in a battle-field, fought 
under your imperial guidance, and that of your great captains, 
your evidence might well supersede the testimony of such a 
man as this. — Let me know,” he added, turning haughtily to 
the Varangian, “what particular thou canst add, that is un- 
noticed in the Princess’s narrative ? ” 

The Varangian replied instantly, “Only that when we made 
a halt at the fountain, the music that was there made by the 
ladies of the Emperor’s household, and particularly by those 
two. whom I now behold, was the most exquisite that ever 
reached my ears.” 

“ Ha ! darest thou to speak so audacious an opinion ? ” 
exclaimed Nicephorus ; “ is it for such as thou to suppose for a 
moment that the music which the wife and daughter of the Em- 
peror might condescend to make, was intended to afford either 
matter of pleasure or of criticism to every plebeian barbarian 
who might hear them ? Begone from this place ! nor dare, on 
any pretext, again to appear before mine eyes — under allowance 
always of our imperial father’s pleasure.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


95 

The Varangian bent his looks upon Achilles Tatius, as the 
person from whom he was to take his orders to stay or with- 
draw. But the Emperor himself took up the subject with con- 
siderable dignity. 

“ Son,” he said, “ we cannot permit this. On account of 
some love quarrel, as it would seem, betwixt you and our 
daughter, you allow yourself strangely to forget our imperial 
rank, and to order from our presence those whom we have 
pleased to call to attend us. This is neither right nor seemly, 
nor is it our pleasure that this same Hereward- — or Edward — or 
whatever be his name — either leave us at this present moment, 
or do at any time hereafter regulate himself by any commands 
save our own, or those of our Follower, Achilles Tatius. And 
now, allowing this foolish affair, which I think was blown 
among us by the wind, to pass as it came, without farther 
notice, we crave to know the grave matters of state which 
brought you to our presence at so late an hour. — You look 
again at this Varangian. — Withhold not your words, I pray 
you on account of his presence ; for he stands as high in our 
trust, and we are convinced with as good reason, as any coun- 
sellor who has been sworn our domestic servant.” 

“To hear is to obey,” returned the Emperor’s son-in-law, 
who saw that Alexius was somewhat moved, and knew that ire 
such cases it was neither safe nor expedient to drive him to ex- 
tremity. “What I have to say,” continued he, “must so soon be 
public news, that it little matters who hears it ; and yet the 
West, so full of strange changes, never sent to the Eastern half 
of the globe tidings so alarming as those I now come to tell 
your Imperial Highness. Europe, to borrow an expression 
from this lady, who honors me by calling me husband, seems 
loosened from its foundations and about to precipitate itself 
upon Asia ” 

“ So I did express myself,” said the Princess Anna Comnena, 
“ and, as I trust, not altogether unforcibly, when we first heard 
that the wild impulse of those restless barbarians of Europe had 
driven a tempest as of a thousand nations upon our western 
frontier, with the extravagant purpose, as they pretended, of 
possessing themselves of Syria, and the holy places there marked 
as the sepulchres of prophets, the martyrdom of saints, and the 
great events detailed in the blessed gospel. But that storm, 
by all accounts, hath burst and passed away, and we well hoped 
that the danger had gone with it. Devoutly shall we sorrow to 
find it otherwise.” 

“And otherwise we must expect to find it,” said herhus 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


96 

band. “ It is very true, as reported to us, that a huge body 
of men of low rank and little understanding assumed arms at 
the instigation of a mad hermit, and took the road from Ger- 
many to Hungary, expecting miracles to be wrought in theii 
favor, as when Israel was guided through the wilderness by a 
pillar of flame and a cloud. But no showers of manna or of 
quails relieved their necessities, or proclaimed them the chosen 
people of God. No waters gushed from the rock for their re- 
freshment. They were enraged at their sufferings, and en- 
deavored to obtain supplies by pillaging the country. The 
Hungarians, and other nations on our western frontiers, Chris 
tians, like themselves, did not hesitate to fall upon this disor- 
derly rabble ; and immense piles of bones, in wild passes and 
unfrequented deserts, attest the calamitous defeats which ex- 
tirpated these unholy pilgrims.” 

“ All this,” said the Emperor, “ we knew before ; — but what 
new evil now threatens, since we have already escaped so im- 
portant a one ? ” 

“ Knew before ?” said the Prince Nicephorus. “We knew 
nothing of pur real danger before, save that a wild herd of ani- 
mals, as brutal and as furious as wild bulls, threatened to bend 
their way to a pasture for which they had formed a fancy, and 
deluged the Grecian empire, and its vicinity, in their passage, 
expecting that Palestine, with its streams of milk and honey, 
once more awaited them, as God’s predestined people. But 
so wild and disorderly an invasion had no terrors for a civilized 
nation like the Romans. The brute herd was terrified by our 
Greek fire ; it was snared and shot down by the wild nations 
who, while they pretend to independence, cover our frontier as 
with protecting fortification. The vile multitude has been con- 
sumed even by the very quality of the provisions thrown in 
their way — these wise means of resistance which were at once 
suggested by the paternal care of the Emperor, and by his un- 
failing policy. Thus wisdom has played its part, and the bark 
over which the tempest has poured its thunder has escaped, 
notwithstanding all its violence. But the second storm, by 
which the former is so closely followed, is of a new descent of 
these Western nations, more formidable than any which we or 
our fathers have yet seen. This consists not of the ignorant or 
of the fanatical — not of the base, the needy and the improv- 
ident. Now — all that wide Europe possesses of what is wise 
and worthy, brave and noble, are united by the most religious 
vows in the same purpose.” 

“ And what is that purpose ? Speak plainly,” said Alexius. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


97 

“ The destruction of our whole Roman empire, and the blotting 
out the very name of its chief from among the princes of the 
earth, among which it has long been predominant, can alone 
be an adequate motive for a confederacy such as thy speech 
infers.” 

“ No such designs is avowed,” said Nicephorus ; “and so 
many princes, wise men, and statesmen of eminence, aim, it is 
pretended, at nothing else than the same extravagant purpose 
announced by the brute multitude who first appeared in these 
regions. Here, most gracious Emperor, is a scroll, in which 
you will find marked down a list of the various armies which, 
by different routes, are approaching the vicinity of the empire. 
Behold, Hugh of Vermandois, called from his dignity Hugh the 
Great, has set sail from the shores of Italy. Twenty knights 
have already announced their coming, sheathed in armor of 
steel, inlaid with gold, bearing this proud greeting : — ‘ Let 
the Emperor of Greece, and his lieutenants, understand that 
Hugo, Earl of Vermandois, is approaching his territories. He 
is brother to the king of kings — the King of France,* namely 
— and is attended by the flower of the French nobility. He 
bears the blessed banner of St. Peter, intrusted to his victori- 
ous care by the holy successor of the apostle, and warns thee 
of all this, that thou mayst provide a reception suitable to his 
rank.’ ” 

“ Here are sounding words,” said the Emperor; “ but the 
wind which whistles loudest is not always most dangerous to 
the vessel. We know something of this nation of France, and 
have heard more. They are as petulant at least as they are 
valiant ; we will flatter their vanity till we get time and oppor- 
tunity for more effectual defence. Tush ! if words can pay 
debt, there is no fear of our exchequer becoming insolvent. — 
What follows here, Nicephorus ? A list, I suppose, of the 
followers of this great Count ? ” 

“ My liege, no ! ” answered Nicephorus Briennius ; “ so 
many independent chiefs, as your Imperial Highness sees in 
that memorial, so many independent European armies are ad- 
vancing by different routes towards the East, and announce 
the conquest of Palestine from the infidels as their common 
object.” 

“ A dreadful enumeration,” said the Emperor, as he perused 

* Ducange pours out a whole ocean of authorities to show that the King of France was in 
those days styled Rex, by way of eminence. See his notes on the A lexiad. Anna Com- 
nena in her history makes Hugh of Vermandois assume to himself the titles which could 
only, in the most enthusiastic Frenchman’s opinion, have been claimed by his elder brother, 
the reigning monarch. 


7 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


98 

the list ; “ yet so far happy, that its very length assures us of 
the impossibility that so many princes can be seriously and 
consistently united in so wild a project Thus already my eyes 
catch the well-known name of an old friend, our enemy — for 
such are the alternate chances of peace and war — Bohemond 
of Antioch. Is not he the son of the celebrated Robert of 
Apulia, so renowned among his countrymen, who raised him- 
self to the rank of grand duke from a simple cavalier, and be- 
came sovereign of those of his warlike nation, both in Sicily 
and Italy? Did not the standards of the German Emperor, 
of the Roman Pontiff, nay, our own imperial banners, give 
way before him ; until, equally a wily statesman and a brave 
warrior, he became the terror of Europe, from being a knight 
whose Norman castle would have been easily garrisoned by six 
cross-bows, and as many lances ? It is a dreadful family, a 
race of craft as well as power. But Bohemond, the son of old 
Robert, will follow his father’s politics. He may talk of Pales- 
tine and of the interests of Christendom, but if I can make his 
interests the same with mine, he is not likely to be guided by 
any other object. So then, with the knowledge I already pos- 
sess of his wishes and projects, it may chance that Heaven 
sends us an ally in the guise of an enemy. — Whom have we 
next ? Godfrey* Duke of Bouillon — leading, I see, a most for- 
midable band from the banks of a huge river called the Rhine. 
What is this person’s character ? ” 

“ As we hear,” replied Nicephorus, “ this Godfrey is one of 
the wisest, noblest, and bravest of the leaders who have thus 
strangely put themselves in motion • and among a list of in- 
dependent princes, as many in number as those who assembled 
for the siege of Troy, and followed, most of them, by subjects 
ten times more numerous, this Godfrey may be regarded as the 
Agamemnon. The princes and counts esteem him, because 
he is the foremost in the ranks of those whom they fantastically 
call Knights, and also on account of the good faith and gen- 
erosity which he practises in all his transactions. The clergy 
give him credit for the hightest zeal for the doctrines of relig- 
ion, and a corresponding respect for the Church and its digni- 
taries. Justice, liberality, and frankness, have equally attached 
to this Godfrey the lower class of the people. His general 
attention to moral obligations is a pledge to them that his relig- 
ion is real ; and, gifted with so much that is excellent, he is 
already, although inferior in rank, birth and power, to many 

* Godfrey of Bouillon, Duke of Lower Lorraine— the great Captain of the first Crusade 
afterwards King of Jerusalem. See Gibbon,— or Mills, passim. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


99 

chiefs of the crusade, justly regarded as one of its principal 
leaders.” 

“ Pity,” said the Emperor, c that a character such as you 
describe this Prince to be, should be under the dominion of a 
fanaticism scarce worthy of Peter the Hermit, or the clownish 
multitude which he led, or of the very ass which he rode upon ! 
which I am apt to think the wisest of the first multitude whom 
we beheld, seeing that it ran away towards Europe as soon as 
water and barley became scarce.” 

“ Might I be permitted here to speak, and yet live,” said 
Agelastes, “ I would remark that the Patriarch himself made 
a similar retreat so soon as blows became plenty and food 
scarce.” 

“ Thou hast hit it, Agelastes,” said the Emperor ; “ but the 
question now is, whether an honorable and important princi- 
pality could not be formed out of part of the provinces of the 
Lesser Asia, now laid waste by the Turks. Such a principality, 
methinks, with its various advantages of soil, climate, indus- 
trious inhabitants, and a healthy atmosphere, were well worth 
the morasses of Bouillon. It might be held as a dependence 
upon the sacred Roman empire, and garrisoned, as it were, 
by Godfrey and his victorious Franks, would be a bulwark on 
that point to our just and sacred person. Ha ! most holy 
Patriarch, would not such a prospect shake the most devout 
Crusader’s attachment to the burning sands of Palestine ? ” 

“ Especially,” answered the Patriarch, “ if the prince for 
whom such a rich theme * was changed into a feudal appanage, 
should be previously converted to the only true faith, as your 
Imperial Highness undoubtedly means.” 

“ Certainly — most unquestionably,” answered the Emperor, 
with a due affectation of gravity, notwithstanding he was inter- 
nally conscious how often he had been compelled, by state 
necessities, to admit, not only Latin Christians, but Manicheans, 
and other heretics, nay, Mahometan barbarians, into the num- 
ber of his subjects^ and that without experiencing opposition 
from the scruples of the Patriarch. “ Here I find,” continued 
the Emperor, “ such a numerous list of princes and principali- 
ties in the act of approaching our boundaries, as might well 
rival the armies of old, who were said to have drunk up rivers, 
exhausted realms, and trod down forests, in their wasteful ad- 
vance.” As he pronounced these words, a shade of paleness 
came over the Imperial brow, similar to that which had already 
clothed in sadness most of his counsellors. 

* The provinces were called Thhmbs. 


IOO 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


“ This war of nations,” said Nicephorus, “ has also circum- 
stances distinguishing it from every other, save that which hi« 
Imperial Highness hath waged in former times against those 
whom we are accustomed to call Franks. We must go forth 
against a people to whom the strife of combat is as the breath 
of their nostrils ; who, rather than not be engaged in war, will 
do battle with their nearest neighbors, and challenge each 
other to mortal fight, as much in sport as we would defy a com- 
rade to a chariot race. They are covered with an impenetrable 
armor of steel, defending them from blows of the lance and 
sword, and which the uncommon strength of their horses renders 
them able to support, though one of ours could as well bear 
Mount Olympus upon his lions. Their foot-ranks carry a mis- 
sile weapon unknown to us, termed an arblast, or cross-bow. 
It is not drawn with the right hand, like the bow of other na- 
tions, but by placing the feet upon the weapon itself, and pull- 
ing with the whole force of the body ; and it despatches arrows 
called bolts, of hard wood pointed with iron, which the strength 
of the bow can send through the strongest breastplates, and 
even through stone walls, where not of uncommon thickness.” 

“ Enough,” said the Emperor ; “ we have seen with our 
own eyes the lances of Frankish knights, and the cross-bows of 
their infantry. If Heaven has allotted them a degree of bravery, 
which to other nations seems well-nigh preternatural, the Divine 
will has given to the Greek councils that wisdom which it hath 
refused to barbarians ; the art of achieving conquest by wisdom 
rather than brute force — obtaining by our skill in treaty ad- 
vantages which victory itself could not have procured. If we 
have not the use of that dreadful weapon, which our son-in-law 
terms the cross-bow, Heaven, in its favor, has concealed from 
these western barbarians the composition and use of the Greek 
fire — well so called, since by Grecian hands alone it is prepared, 
and by such only can its lightnings be darted upon the aston- 
ished foe.” The Emperor paused, and looked around him ; 
and although the faces of his counsellors still looked blank, he 
boldly proceeded : — “ But to return yet again to this black 
scroll, containing the names of those nations who approach our 
frontier, here occur more than one with which, methinks, old 
memory should make us familiar, though our recollections are 
distant and confused. It becomes us to know who these men 
are, that we may avail ourselves of those feuds and quarrels 
among them, which, being blown into life, may happily divert 
them from the prosecution of this extraordinary attempt in 
Which they are now united. Here is, for example, one Robert, 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


IOI 


styled Duke of Normandy, who commands a goodly band of 
counts, with which title we are but too well acquainted ; of 
earls , a word totally strange to us, but apparently some barbaric 
title of honor ; and of knights, whose names are compounded, 
as we think, chiefly of the French language, but also of another 
jargon, which we are not ourselves competent to understand. 
To you, most reverend and most learned Patriarch, we may 
fittest apply for information on this subject.” 

“ The duties of my station,” replied the patriarch Zosimus, 
“have withheld my riper years from studying the history of dis- 
tant realms ; but the wise Agelastes, who hath read as many 
volumes as would fill the shelves of the famous Alexandrian 
library, can no doubt satisfy your Imperial Majesty’s inquiries.” 

Agelastes erected himself on those enduring legs which had 
procured him the surname of Elephant, and began a reply to 
the inquiries of the Emperor, rather remarkable for readiness 
than accuracy. “ I have read,” said he, “ in that brilliant mir- 
ror which reflects the time of our fathers, the volumes of the 
learned Procopius, that the people separately called Normans 
and Angles are in truth the same race, and that Normandy, 
sometimes so called, is in fact a part of a district of Gaul. 
Beyond, and nearly opposite to it, but separated by an arm of 
the sea, lies a ghastly region, on which clouds and tempests for- 
ever rest, and which is well known to its continental neighbors 
as the abode to which departed spirits are sent after this life. 
On one side of the strait dwell a few fishermen, men possessed 
of a strange charter, and enjoying singular privileges, in con- 
sideration of their being the living ferrymen who, performing 
the office of the heathen Charon, carry the spirits of the de- 
parted to the island which is their residence after death. At 
the dead of night, these fishermen are, in rotation, summoned 
to perform the duty by which they seem to hold the permission 
to reside on this strange coast. A knock is heard at the door 
of his cottage who holds the turn of this singular service, 
sounded by no mortal hand. A whispering, as of a decaying 
breeze, summons the ferryman to his duty. He hastens to his 
bark on the sea-shore, and has no sooner launched it than he 
perceives its hull sink sensibly in the water, so as to express 
the weight of the dead with whom it is filled. No form is seen, 
and though voices are heard, yet the accents are undistinguish- 
able, as of one who speaks in his sleep. Thus he traverses the 
strait between the continent and the island, impressed with the 
mysterious awe which affects the living when they are conscious 
of the presence of the dead. They arrive upon the opposite 


102 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


coast, where the cliffs of . white chalk form a strange contrast 
with the eternal darkness of the atmosphere. They , stop at a 
landing-place appointed, but disembark not, for the land is 
never trodden by earthly feet. Here the passage-boat is 
gradually lightened of its unearthly inmates, who wander forth 
in the way appointed to them, while the mariners slowly return 
to their own side of the strait, having performed for the time 
this singular service, by which they hold their fishing-huts and 
their possessions on that strange coast.” Here he ceased, and 
the Emperor replied : — 

“ If this legend be actually told us by Procopius, most learned 
Agelastes, it shows that that celebrated historian came more 
near the heathen than the Christian belief respecting the future 
state. In truth, this is little more than the old fable of the 
infernal Styx. Procopius, we believe, lived before the decay of 
heathenism, and, as we would gladly disbelieve much which he 
hath told us respecting our ancestor and predecessor Justinian, 
so we will not pay him much credit in future in point of geo- 
graphical knowledge. — Meanwhile, what ails thee, Achilles 
Tatius, and why dost thou whisper with that solider?” 

“My head,” answered Achilles Tatius, “is at your imperial 
command, prompt to pay for the unbecoming trespass of my 
tongue. I did but ask of this Hereward here what he knew of 
this matter ; for I have heard my Varangians repeatedly call” 
themselves Anglo-Danes, Normans, Britons, or some other bar- 
baric epithet, and I am sure that one or other, or it may be 
all, of these barbarous sounds, at different times, serve to desig- 
nate the birthplace of these exiles, too happy in being banished 
from the darkness of barbarism, to the luminous vicinity of 
your imperial presence. ” 

“ Speak, then, Varangian, in the name of Heaven,” said the 
Emperor, “ and let us know whether we are to look for friends 
or enemies in those men of Normandy who are now approaching 
our frontier. Speak with courage, man ; and if thou appre- 
hendest danger, remember thou servest a prince well qualified 
to protect thee.” 

“Since I am at liberty to speak,” answered the life-guards- 
man, “ although my knowledge of the Greek language, which 
you term the Roman, is but slight, I trust it is enough to demand 
of his Imperial Highness, in place of all pay, donative, or gift 
whatsoever, since he has been pleased to talk of designing such 
for me, that he would place me in the first line of battle which 
shall be formed against these same Normans, and their Duke 
Robert ; and if he pleases to allow me the aid of such Varan- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


I°3 

gians as, for love of me, or hatred of their ancient tyrants, 
may be disposed to join their arms to mine, I have little doubt 
so to settle our long accounts with these men, that the Grecian 
eagles and wolves shall do them the last office, by tearing the 
flesh from their bones.” 

“ What dreadful feud is this, my soldier,” said the Emperor, 
“ that after so many years still drives thee to such extremities 
when the very name of Normandy is mentioned ? ” 

“ Your Imperial Highness shall be judge ! ” said the Varan- 
gian. “ My fathers, and those of most, though not all of the 
corps to whom I belong, are descended from a valiant race 
who dwelt in the north of Germany, called Anglo-Saxons. 
Nobody, save a priest possessed of the art of consulting ancient 
chronicles, can even guess how long it is since they came to 
the Island of Britain, then distracted with civil war. They 
came, however, on the petition of the natives of the island, for 
the aid of the Angles was requested by the southern inhabi- 
tants. Provinces were granted in recompense of the aid thus 
liberally afforded, and the greater proportion of the island 
became, by degrees, the property of the Anglo-Saxons, who 
occupied it at first as several principalities, and latterly as one 
kingdom, speaking the language, and observing the laws, of most 
of those who now form your imperial body-guard of Varan- 
gians, or exiles. In process of time, the Northmen became 
known to the people of the more southern climates. They 
were so called from their coming from the distant regions of 
the Baltic Sea — an immense ocean, sometimes frozen with ice 
as hard as the cliffs of Mount Caucasus. They came seeking 
milder regions than nature had assigned them at home ; and 
the climate of France being delightful, and its people slow 
in battle, they extorted from them the grant of a large province, 
which was, from the name of the new settlers, called Nor 
mandy, though I have heard my father say that was not its 
proper appellation. They settled there under a Duke, who 
acknowledged the superior authority of the King of France, 
that is to say, obeying him when it suited his convenience so 
to do. 

“ Now, it chanced many years since, while these two nations 
of Normans and Anglo-Saxons were quietly residing upon dif- 
ferent sides of the salt-water channel which divides France 
from England, that William, Duke of Normandy, suddenly 
levied a large army, came over to Kent, which is on the opposite 
side of the channel, and there defeated in a great battle, Har- 
old, who was at that time King of the Anglo-Saxons. It is 


104 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


but grief to tell what followed. Battles have been fought in old 
time, that have had dreadful results, which years, neverthe- 
less, could wash away ; but at Hastings — O woe’s me ! — the 
banner of my country fell, never again to be raised up. Op- 
pression has driven her wheel over us. All that was valiant 
amongst us have left the land ; and of Englishmen — for such is 
our proper designation — no one remains in England save as the 
thrall of the invaders. Many men of Danish descent, who had 
found their way on different occasions to England, were blended 
in the common calamity. All was laid desolate by the com- 
mand of the victors. My father’s home lies now an undis- 
tinguished ruin, amid an extensive forest, composed out of 
what were formerly fair fields and domestic pastures, where a 
manly race derived nourishment by cultivating a friendly soil. 
The fire has destroyed the church where sleep the fathers of my 
race ; and I, the last of their line, am a wanderer in other 
climates — a fighter of the battles of others — the servant of a 
foreign, though a kind master ; in a word, one of the banished 
— a Varangian.” 

“ Happier in that station,” said Achilles Tatius, “ than in all 
the barbaric simplicity which your forefathers prized so highly, 
since you are now under the cheering influence of that smile 
which is the life of the world.” 

“ It avails not talking of this,” said the Varangian, with a 
cold gesture. 

“ These Normans,” said the Emperor, “ are then the people 
by whom the celebrated island of Britain is now conquered and 
governed ? ” 

“ It is but too true,” answered the Varangian. 

“ They are, then, a brave and warlike people ? ” — said 
Alexius. 

“ It would be base and false to say otherwise of an enemy,” 
said Hereward. “ Wrong have they done me, and a wrong 
never to be atoned ; but to speak falsehood of them were but a 
woman’s vengeance. Mortal enemies as they are to me, and 
mingling with all my recollections as that which is hateful and 
odious, yet were the troops of Europe mustered, as it seems 
they are likely to be, no nation or tribe dared in gallantry claim 
the advance of the haughty Normans/’ 

“ And this Duke Robert, who is he ? ” 

“ That,” answered the Varangian, “ I cannot so well explain, 
He is the son — the eldest son, as men say, of the tyrant Will 
iam, who subdued England when I hardly existed, or was a 
child in the cradle. That William, the victor of Hastings, is 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


*05 

now dead, we are assured by concurring testimony ; but while 
it seems his eldest son Duke Robert has become his heir to the 
Duchy of Normandy, some other of his children have been so 
fortunate as to acquire the throne of England, unless, indeed, 
like the petty farm of some obscure yeoman, the fair kingdom 
has been divided among the tyrant’s issue.” 

“ Concerning this,” said the Emperor, “ we have heard 
something, which we shall try to reconcile with the soldier’s 
narrative at leisure, holding the words of this honest Varan' 
gian as positive proof, in whatsoever he avers from his own 
knowledge. — And now, my grave and worthy counsellors, we 
must close this evening’s service in the Temple of the Muses, 
this distressing news, brought us by our dearest son-in-law, the 
Caesar, having induced us to prolong our worship of these 
learned goddesses deeper into the night than is consistent 
with the health of' our beloved wife and daughter ; while to 
ourselves this intelligence brings subject for grave delibera- 
tion.” 

The courtiers exhausted their ingenuity in forming the most 
ingenious prayers, that all evil consequences should be averted 
which could attend this excessive vigilance. 

Nicephorus and his fair bride spoke together as a pair 
equally desirous to close an accidental breach between them. 
“ Some things thou hast said, my Caesar,” observed the lady, 
“ in detailing this dreadful intelligence, as elegantly turned as 
if the nine goddesses, to whom this temple is dedicated, had 
lent each her aid to the sense and expression.” 

“ I need none of their assistance,” answered Nicephorus, 
“ since I possess a muse of my own, in whose genius are in. 
eluded all those attributes which the heathens vainly ascribed 
to the nine deities of Parnassus ! ” 

“ It is well,” said the fair historian, retiring by the assist- 
ance of her husband’s arm ; “ but if you will load your wife 
with praises far beyond her merits, you must lend her your arm 
to support her under the weighty burden you have been pleased 
to impose.” The council parted when the imperial persons had 
retired, and most of them sought to indemnify themselves in 
more free though less dignified circles, for the constraint which 
they had practised in the Temple of the Muses. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


to6 


CHAPTER SIXTH. 


Vain man l thou mayst esteem thy love as fair 
As fond hyperboles suffice to raise. 

She may be all that’s matchless in her person, 

And all-divine in soul to match her body ; 

But take this from me — thou shalt never call her 
Superior to her sex, while one survives, 

And I am her true votary. 

Old Piay. 

Achilles Tatius, with his faithful Varangian close by his 
shoulder, melted from the dispersing assembly silently and 
almost invisibly, as snow is dissolved from its Alpine abodes 
as the days become more genial. No lordly step, or clash of 
armor, betokened the retreat of the military persons. The 
very idea of the necessity of guards was not ostentatiously 
brought forward, because, so near the presence of the Em- 
peror, the emanation supposed to flit around that divinity of 
earthly sovereigns, had credit for rendering it impassive and 
unassailable. Thus the oldest and most skilful courtiers, among 
whom our friend Agelastes was not to be forgotten, were of 
opinion, that, although the Emperor employed the ministry of 
the Varangians and other guards, it was rather for form’s sake, 
than from any danger of the commission of a crime of a kind 
so heinous, that it was the fashion to account it almost impos- 
sible. And this doctrine, of the rare occurrence of such a 
crime, was repeated from month to month in those very cham- 
bers, where it had oftener than once been perpetrated, and 
sometimes by the very persons who monthly laid schemes for 
carrying some dark conspiracy against the reigning Emperor 
into positive execution. 

At length, the captain of the life-guardsmen, and his faithful 
attendant, found themselves on the outside of the Blacquernal 
Palace. The passage which Achilles found for their exit was 
closed by a postern which a single Varangian shut behind them, 
drawing, at the same time, bolt and bar, with an ill-omened 
and jarring sound. Looking back at the mass of turrets, battle- 
ments, and spires, out of which they had at length emerged, 
Hereward could not but feel his heart lighten to find himself 
once more under the deep blue of a Grecian heaven, where the 
planets were burning with unusual lustre. He sighed and 
rubbed his hands with pleasure, like a man newly restored to 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


107 

liberty. He even spoke to is leader, contrary to his custom 
unless addressed : — “ Methinks the air of yonder halls, valorous 
Captain, carries with it a perfume, which, though it may be well 
termed sweet, is so suffocating, as to be more suitable to 
sepulchrous chambers than to the dwellings of men. Happy I 
am that I am free, as I trust, from its influences.” 

“Be happy, then, said Achilles Tatius, “since thy vile, 
cloddish spirit feels suffocation rather than refreshment in gales, 
which, instead of causing death, might recall the dead them- 
selves to life. Yet this I will say for thee, Hereward, that, born 
a barbarian, within the narrow circle of a savage’s desires and 
pleasures, and having no idea of life, save what thou derivest 
from such vile and base connections, thou art, nevertheless, de- 
signed by nature for better things, and hast this day sustained 
a trial, in which, I fear me, not even one of mine own noble 
corps, frozen as they are into lumps of unfashioned barbarity, 
could have equalled thy bearing. And speak now in true faith, 
hast thou not been rewarded ? ” 

“That will I never deny,” said the Varangian. “The 
pleasure of knowing, twenty-four hours perhaps before my com- 
rades, that the Normans are coming hither to afford us a full 
revenge of the bloody day of Hastings, is a lordly recompense 
for the task of spending some hours in hearing the lengthened 
chat of a lady, who has written about she knows not what, and 
the flattering commentaries of the bystanders, who pretended 
to give her an account of what they did not themselves stop to 
witness.” 

“Hereward, my good youth,” said Achilles Tatius, “thou 
ravest, and I think I should do well to place thee under the 
custody of some person of skill. Too much hardihood, my 
valiant soldier, is in soberness allied to overdaring. It was only 
natural that thou shouldst feel a becoming pride in thy late 
position ; yet, let it but taint thee with vanity, and the effect 
will be little short of madness. Why, thou hast looked boldly 
in the face of a Princess born in the purple, before whom my 
own eyes, though well used to such spectacles, are never raised 
beyond the foldings of her veil.” 

“So be it, in the name of Heaven-!” replied Hereward. 
“ Nevertheless, handsome faces were made to look upon, and 
the eyes of young men to see withal.” 

“ If such be their final end, said Achilles, “ never did thine, 
I will freely suppose, find a richer apology for the somewhat 
overbold license which thou tookest in thy gaze upon the 
Princess this evening.” 


I0 8 COUNT ROB Eli T OF PARIS. 

“ Good leader, or Follower, whichever is your favorite title,’* 
said the Anglo-Briton, “ drive not to extremity a plain man, 
who desires to hold his duty in all honor to the imperial family. 
The Princess, wife of the Caesar, and born, you tell me, of a 
purple color, has now inherited, notwithstanding, the features 
of a most lovely woman. She hath composed a history, of which 
I presume not to form a judgment, since I cannot understand it ; 
she sings like an angel ; and to conclude, after the fashion of 
the knights of this day — though I deal not ordinarily with their 
language — I would say cheerfully that I am ready to place my- 
self in lists against any one whomsoever, who dares detract 
from the beauty of the imperial Anna Comnena’s person, or 
from the virtues of her mind. Having said this, my noble cap- 
tain, we have said all that it is competent for you to inquire 
into, or for me to answer. That there are handsomer women 
than the Princess, is unquestionable ; and I question it the less, 
that I have myself seen a person whom I think far her superior ; 
and with that let us close the dialogue.” 

“ Thy beauty, thou unparalleled fool,” said Achilles, “ must^ 

I ween, be the daughter of the large-bodied northern boor, 
living next door to him upon whose farm was brought up the 
person of an ass, cursed with such intolerable want of judg- 
ment.” 

" You may say your pleasure, captain,” replied Hereward ; 
“ because it is the safer for us both that thou canst not on such 
a topic either offend me, who hold thy judgment as light as thou 
canst esteem mine, or speak any derogation of a person whom 
you never saw, but whom, if you had seen, perchance I might 
not so patiently have brooked any reflections upon, even at the 
hands of a military superior.” 

Achilles Tatius had a good deal of the penetration necessary 
for one in his situation. He never provoked to extremity the 
daring spirits whom he commanded, and never used any free- 
dom with them beyond the extent that he knew their patience 
could bear. Hereward was a favorite soldier, and had, in that 
respect at least, a sincere liking and regard for his commander : 
when, therefore, the Follower, instead of resenting his petulance, 
good-humoredly apologized for having hurt his feelings, the 
momentary displeasure between them was at an end ; the officer 
at once reassumed his superiority, and the soldier sunk back 
with a deep sigh, given to some period which was long past, 
into his wonted silence and reserve. Indeed the Follower h^d 
another and further design upon Hereward, of which he was as 
yet unwilling to do more than give a distant hint. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


109 

After a iong pause, during which they approached the bar- 
racks, a gloomy fortified building constructed for the residence 
of their corps, the captain motioned his soldier to draw close up 
to his side, and proceeded to ask him, in a confidential tone — 
“ Hereward, my friend, although it is scarce to be supposed that 
in the presence of the imperial family thou shouldst mark any 
one who did not partake of their blood, or rather, as Homer 
has it, who did not participate of the divine ichor > which, in 
their sacred persons, supplies the place of that vulgar fluid ; 
yet, during so long an audience, thou mightst possibly, from his 
uncourtly person and attire, have distinguished Agelastes, 
whom we courtiers call the Elephant, from his strict observation 
of the rule which forbids any one to sit down or rest in the 
Imperial presence.” 

“ I think,” replied the soldier, “ I marked the man you 
mean ; — his age was some seventy and upwards, — a big burly 
person ; — and the baldness which reached to the top of his head 
was well atoned for by a white beard of prodigious size, which 
descended in waving curls over his breast, and reached to the 
towel with which his loins were girded, instead of the silken 
sash used by other persons of rank.” 

“ Most accurately marked, my Varangian,” said the officer. 
“ What else didst thou note about this person ? ” 

“ His cloak was in its texture as coarse as that of the mean- 
est of the people, but it was strictly clean, as if it had been the 
intention of the wearer to exhibit poverty, or carelessness and 
contempt of dress, avoiding, at the same time, every particular 
which implied anything negligent, sordid, or disgusting.” 

“ By St. Sophia ! ” said the officer, “ thou astonishest me ! 
The prophet Balaam was not more surprised when his ass turned 
round her head and spoke to him ! — And what else didst thou 
note concerning this man ? I see those who meet thee must 
beware of thy observation, as well as of thy battle-axe.” 

“ If it please your valor,” answered the soldier, “ we English 
have eyes as well as hands ; but it is only when discharging our 
duty that we permit our tongues to dwell on what we have 
observed. I noted but little of this man’s conversation, but 
from what I heard, it seemed he was not unwilling to play what 
we call the jester, or jack-pudding, in the conversation, a char- 
acter which, considering the man’s age and physiognomy, is 
not, I should be tempted to say, natural, but assumed for some 
purpose of deeper import.” 

‘ Hereward,” answered his officer, " thou hast spoken like 
Hn angel sent down to examine men’s bosoms : that man, 


no 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


Agelastes, is a contradiction, such as earth has seldom wit* 
nessed. Possessing all that wisdom which in former times united 
the sages of this nation with the gods themselves, Angelastes 
has the same cunning as the elder Brutus, who disguised his 
talents under the semblance of an idle jester. He appears to 
seek no office — he desires no consideration — he pays suit at 
Court only when positively required to do so ; yet what shall I 
say, my soldier, concerning the cause of an influence gained 
without apparent effort, and extending almost into the very 
thoughts of men, who appear to act as he would desire, without 
his soliciting them for that purpose ? Men say strange things 
concerning the extent of his communications with other beings, 
whom our fathers worshipped with prayer and sacrifice. I am 
determined, however, to know the road by which he climbs so 
high and so easily towards the point to which all men aspire at 
Court, and it will go hard but he shall either share his ladder 
with me, or I will strike its support from under him. Thee, 
Here ward, I have chosen to assist me in this matter, as the 
knights among these Frankish infidels select, when going upon 
an adventure, a sturdy squire, or inferior attendant, to share 
the dangers and the recompense ; and this I am moved to, as 
much by the shrewdness thou hast this night manifested as by 
the courage which thou mayst boast, in common with, or rather 
beyond, thy companions.” 

“I am obliged, and I thank your valor,” replied the Var- 
angian, more coldly perhaps than his officer expected ; “I am 
ready, as is my duty, to serve you in anything consistent with 
God and the Emperor’s claims upon my service. I would only 
say that, as a sworn inferior soldier, I will do nothing contrary 
to the laws of the empire, and, as a sincere though ignorant 
Christian, I will have nothing to do with the gods of the 
heathens, save to defy them in the name and strength of the 
holy saints.” 

“ Idiot ! ” said Achilles Tatius, “ dost thou think that I, 
already possessed of one of the first dignities of the empire, 
could meditate anything contrary to the interests of Alexius 
Comnenus ? or, what would be scarce more atrocious, that I, 
the chosen friend and ally of the reverend Patriarch Zosimus, 
should meddle with anything bearing a relation, however remote, 
to heresy or idolatry ? ” 

“Truly,” answered the Varangian, “no one would be more 
surprised or grieved than I should ; but when we walk in a 
labyrinth, we must assume and announce that we have a steady 
and forward purpose, which is one mode at least of keepings 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


ill 


straight path. The people of this country have so many ways 
of saying the same thing, that one can hardly know at last what 
is their real meaning. We English, on the other hand, can 
only express ourselves in one set of words, but it is one out of 
which all the ingenuity of the world could not extract a double 
meaning.” 

“ ’Tis well,” said his officer ; “ to-morrow we will talk more 
of this, for which purpose thou wilt come to my quarters a little 
after sunset. And, hark thee, to-morrow, while the sun is in 
heaven, shall be thine own, either to sport thyself or to repose. 
Employ thy time in the latter, by my advice, since to-morrow 
night, like the present, may find us both watchers.” 

So saying, they entered the barracks, where they parted com- 
pany — the commander of the life-guards taking his way to a 
splendid set of apartments which belonged to him in that 
capacity, and the Anglo-Saxon seeking his more humble accom- 
modations as a subaltern officer of the same corps. 


CHAPTER SEVENTH. 


Such forces met not, nor so vast a camp, 

When Agrican, with all his Northern powers, 

Besieged Albracca, as romances tell, 

The city of Gallaphron, from thence to win 
The fairest of her sex, Angelica, 

His daughter, sought by many prowess’d knights, 

Both Paynim, and the Peers of Charlemagne. 

Paradise Regained. 


Early on the morning of the day following that which we 
have commemorated, the Imperial Council was assembled where 
the number of general officers with sounding titles disguised 
under a thin veil the real weakness of the Grecian empire. The 
commanders were numerous, and the distinctions of their rank 
minute, but the soldiers were very few in comparison. 

The offices formerly filled by prefects, praetors, and questors, 
were now held by persons who had gradually risen into the 
authority of those officers, and who, though designated from 
their domestic duties about the Emperor, yet, from that very 
circumstance, possessed what, in that despotic Court, was the 
most effectual source of power. A long train of officers entered 
the great hall of the Castle of Blacquernal, and proceeded so 
far together as their different grades admitted, while in each 


1 1 2 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


chamber through which they passed in succession, a certain 
number of the train whose rank permitted them to advance no 
farther, remained behind the others. Thus, when the interior 
cabinet of audience was gained, which was not until their 
passage through ten anterooms, five persons only found them- 
selves in the presence of the Emperor in this innermost and 
most sacred recess of royalty, decorated by all the splendor of 
the period. 

The Emperor Alexius sat upon a stately throne, rich with 
barbaric gems and gold, and flanked on either hand, in imitation 
probably of Solomon’s magnificence, with the form of a couchant 
lion in the same precious metal. Not to dwell upon other marks 
of splendor, a tree, whose trunk seemed also of gold, shot up 
behind the throne, which it overcanopied with its branches. 
Amid the boughs were birds of various kinds curiously wrought 
and enamelled, and fruit composed of precious stones seemed 
to glisten among the leaves. Five officers alone, the highest 
in the state, had the privilege of entering this sacred recess 
when the Emperor held council. These were — the Grand 
Domestic, who might- be termed of rank with a modern prime 
minister — the Logothete, or chancellor — the Protospathaire, or 
commander of the guards, already mentioned — the Acolyte, or 
Follower, and leader of the Varangians — and the Patriarch. 

The doors of this secret apartment, and the adjacent ante- 
chamber, were guarded by six deformed Nubian slaves, whose 
writhen and withered countenances formed a hideous contrast 
with their snow-white dresses and splendid equipment. They 
were mutes, a species of wretches borrowed from the despotism 
of the East, that they might be unable to proclaim the deeds of 
tyranny of which they were the unscrupulous agents. They 
were generally beld in a kind of horror, rather than compassion, 
for men considered that slaves of this sort had a malignant 
pleasure in avenging upon others the irreparable wrongs which 
had severed themselves from humanity. 

It was a general custom, though, like many other usages of 
the Greeks, it would be held childish in modern times, that by 
means of machinery easily conceived, the lions, at the entrance 
of a stranger, were made, as it were, to rouse themselves and 
roar, after which a wind seemed to rustle the foliage of the tree, 
the birds hopped from branch to branch, pecked the fruit, and 
appeared to fill the chamber with their carolling. This display 
had alarmed many an ignorant foreign ambassador, and even 
the Grecian counsellors themselves were expected to display 
the same sensations of fear, succeeded by surprise, when they 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS'. 


1 13 

heard the roar of the lions, followed by the consort of the 
birds, although perhaps it was for the fiftieth time. On this 
occasion, as a proof of the urgency of the present meeting of 
the council, these ceremonies were entirely omitted. 

The speech of the Emperor himself seemed to supply by its 
commencement the bellowing of the lions, while it ended in a 
strain more resembling the warbling of the birds. 

In his first sentences he treated of the audacity and unheard- 
of boldness of the millions of Franks, who, under the pretence 
of wresting Palestine from the infidels, had ventured to invade 
the sacred territories of the empire. He threatened them with 
such chastisement as his innumerable forces and officers would, 
he affirmed, find it easy to inflict. To all this the audience, 
and especially the military officers, gave symptoms of ready 
assent. 

Alexius, however, did not long persist in the warlike inten- 
tions which he at first avowed. The Franks, he at length 
seemed to reflect, were, in profession, Christians. They might 
possibly be serious in their pretext of the crusade, in which 
case their motives claimed a degree of indulgence, and, al- 
though erring, a certain portion of respect. The numbers also 
were great, and their valor could not be despised by those who 
had seen them fight at Durazzo,* and elsewhere. They might 
also, by the permission of Supreme Providence, be, in the long 
run, the instruments of advantage to the most sacred empire, 
though they approached it with so little ceremony. He had, 
therefore, mingling the virtues of prudence, humanity, and gen- 
erosity, with that valor which must always burn in the heart of 
an Emperor, formed a plan, which he was about to submit to 
their consideration, for present execution ; and, in the first 
place, he requested of the Grand Domestic to let him know 
what forces he might count upon on the western side of the 
Bosphorus. 

“ Innumerable are the forces of the empire as the stars in 
heaven, or the sand on the sea-shore,” answered the Grand 
Domestic. 

“ That is a goodly answer,” said the Emperor, “ provided 
there were strangers present at this conference.; but since we 
hold consultation private, it is necessary that I know precisely 
to what number that army amounts which I have to rely upon. 
Reserve your eloquence till some fitter time, and let me know 

* For the battle of Durazzo, Oct. 1081, in which Alexius was defeated with great slaugh- 
ter by Robert Guiscard, and escaped only by the swiftness of his horse, see Gibbon, chap. 

* 8 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


114 

what you, at this present moment, mean by the word innumer- 
able f” 

The Grand Domestic paused, and hesitated for a short 
space ; but as he became aware that the moment was one in 
which the Emperor could not be trifled with (for Alexius Com- 
nenus was at times dangerous), he answered thus, but not 
without hesitation: — “Imperial master and lord, none better 
knows that such an answer cannot be hastily made, if it is at 
the same time to be correct in its results. The number of the 
imperial host betwixt this city and the western frontier of the 
empire, deducing those absent upon furlough, cannot be 
counted upon as amounting to more than twenty-five thousand 
men, or thirty thousand at most.” 

Alexius struck his forehead with his hand ; and the counsel- 
lors, seeing him give way to such violent expressions of grief 
and surprise, began to enter into discussions, which they would 
otherwise have reserved for a fitter place and time. 

“ By the trust your Highness reposes in me,” said the 
Logothete, “there has been drawn from your Highness’s cof- 
fers, during the last year, gold enough to pay double the num- 
ber of the armed warriors whom the Grand Domestic now men- 
tions.” 

“ Your Imperial Highness,” retorted the impeached minis- 
ter, with no small animation, “ will at once remember the 
stationary garrisons, in addition to the movable troops, for 
which this figure-caster makes no allowance.” 

“ Peace, both of you ! ” said Alexius, composing himself 
hastily ; “ our actual numbers are in truth less than we counted 
on, but let us not by wrangling augment the difficulties of the 
time. Let those troops be dispersed in valleys, in passes, 
behind ridges of hills, and in difficult ground, where a little art 
being used in the position, can make few men supply the 
appearance of numbers, between this city and the western fron- 
tier of the empire. While this disposal is made, we will con- 
tinue to adjust with these crusaders, as they call themselves, 
the terms on which we will consent to let them pass through 
our dominions ; nor are we without hope of negotiating with 
them, so as to gain great advantage to our kingdom. We will 
insist that they pass through our country only by armies of 
perhaps fifty thousand at once, whom we will successively trans- 
port into Asia, so that no greater number shall, by assembling 
beneath our walls, even endanger the safety of the metropolis 
of the world. 

“ On their way towards the banks of the Bosphorus, we 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


IJ 5 

will supply them with provisions, if they march peaceably, and 
in order ; and if any straggle from their standard, or insult the 
country by marauding, we suppose our valiant peasants will not 
hesitate to repress their excesses, and that without our giving 
positive orders, since we would not willingly be charged with 
anything like a breach of engagement. We suppose, also, that 
the Scythians, Arabs, Syrians, and other mercenaries in our 
service, will not suffer our subjects to be overpowered in their 
own just defence ; as, besides that there is no justice in stripping 
our own country of provisions, in order to feed strangers, we 
will not be surprised nor unpardonably displeased to learn, that 
of the ostensible quantity of flour, some sacks should be found 
filled with chalk, or lime, or some such substance. It is, indeed, 
truly wonderful, what the stomach of a Frank will digest com- 
fortably. Their guides, also, whom you shall choose with ref- 
erence to such duty, will take care to conduct the crusaders by 
difficult and circuitous routes ; which will be doing them a real 
service, by inuring them to the hardships of the country and 
climate, which they would otherwise have to face without sea- 
soning. 

“ In the mean time, in your intercourse with their chiefs, 
whom they call counts, each of whom thinks himself so great 
as an Emperor, you will take care to give no offence to their 
natural presumption, and omit no opportunity of informing them 
of the wealth and bounty of our government. Sums of money 
may be even given to persons of note, and largesses of less 
avail to those under them. You, our Logothete, will take good 
order for this, and you, our Grand Domestic, will take care 
that such soldiers as may cut off detached parties of the Franks 
shall be presented, if possible, in savage dress, and under the 
show of infidels. In commending these injunctions to your care, 
I purpose that, the crusaders having found the value of our 
friendship, and also in some sort the danger of our enmity, those 
whom we shall safely transport to Asia, shall be, however, mm 
wieldy, still a smaller and more compact body, whom we may 
deal with in all Christian prudence. Thus, by using fair words 
to one, threats to another, gold to the avaricious, power to the 
ambitious, and reasons to those that are capable of listening to 
them, we doubt not but to prevail upon those Franks, met as 
they are from a thousand points, and enemies of each other, to 
acknowledge us as their common superior, rather than choose 
a leader among themselves, when they are made aware of the 
great fact, that every village in Palestine, from Dan to Beersheba, 
is the original property of the sacred Roman empire, and that 


n6 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


whatever Christian goes to war for their recovery, must go as 
our subject, and hold any conquest which he may make as our 
vassal. Vice and virtue, sense and folly, ambition and disin- 
terested devotion, will alike recommend to the survivors of these 
singular-minded men, to become the feudatories of the empire, 
not its foe, and the shield, not the enemy, of your paternal 
Emperor.” 

There was a general inclination of the head among the 
courtiers, with the Eastern exclamation of, — “ Long live the 
Emperor ! ” 

When the murmur of this applausive exclamation had sub- 
sided, Alexius proceeded : — “ Once more, I say that my faith- 
ful Grand Domestic, and those who act under him, will take 
care to commit the execution of such part of these orders as 
may seem aggressive, to troops of foreign appearance and 
language, which, I grieve to say, are more numerous in our 
imperial army than our natural-born and orthodox subjects.” 

The Patriarch here interposed his opinion. — “ There is a 
consolation,” he said, “ in the thought, that the genuine Romans 
in the imperial army are but few, since a trade so bloody as 
war, is most fitly prosecuted by those whose doctrines, as well 
as their doings, on earth, merit eternal condemnation in the 
next world.” 

“ Reverend Patriarch,” said the Emperor, “ we would not 
willingly hold, with the wild infidels, that Paradise is to be 
gained by the sabre ; nevertheless, we would hope that a Roman 
dying in battle for his religion and his Emperor may find 
as good hope of acceptation, after the mortal pang is over, as a 
man who dies in peace, and with unblooded hand.” 

“ It is enough for me to say,” resumed the Patriarch, “ that 
the Church’s doctrine is not so indulgent ; she is herself peace- 
ful, and her promises of favor are for those who have been men 
of peace. Yet think not I bar the gates of Heaven against a 
soldier, as such, if believing all the doctrines of pur Church, 
and complying with all the observances ; far less would I con- 
demn your Imperial Majesty’s wise precautions, both for 
diminishing the power and thinning the ranks of those Latin 
heretics, who come hither to despoil us, and plunder perhaps 
both church and temple, under the vain pretext that Heaven 
would permit them, stained with so many heresies, to reconquer 
that Holy Land, which true orthodox Christians, your Majesty’s 
sacred predecessors, have not been enabled to retain from the 
infidel. And well I trust that no settlement made under the 
Latins will be permitted by your Majesty to establish itself, in 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


ri 7 

which the Cross shall not be elevated with limbs of the same 
length, instead of that irregular and most damnable error which 
prolongs, in western churches, the nether limb of that most 
holy emblem.” 

“ Reverend Patriarch,” answered the Emperor, “ do not 
deem that we think lightly of your weighty scruples ; but the 
question is now, notin what manner we may convert these Latin 
heretics to the true faith, but how we may avoid being overrun 
by their myriads, which resemble those of the locusts by which 
their approach was preceded and intimated.” 

“ Your Majesty,” said the Patriarch, “will act with your 
usual wisdom ; for my part, I have only stated my doubts that 
I may save my own soul alive.” 

“ Our construction,” said the Emperor, “ does your senti- 
ments no wrong, most reverend Patriarch ; and you,” address- 
ing himself to the other cousellors, “ will attend to these sepa- 
rate charges given out for directing the execution of the com- 
mands which have been generally intimated to you. They are 
written out in the sacred ink, and our sacred subscription is 
duly marked with the fitting tinge of green and purple. Let 
them, therefore, be strictly obeyed. Ourselves will assume the 
command of such of the Immortal Bands as remain in the city, 
and join to them the cohorts of our faithful Varangians. At 
the head of these troops we will await the arrival of these stran- 
gers under the walls of the city, and, avoiding combat while 
our policy can postpone it, we will be ready, in case of the 
worst, to take whatsoever chance it shall please the Almighty 
to send us.” 

Here the council broke up, and the different chiefs began 
to exert themselves in the execution of their various instructions, 
civil and military, secret or public, favorable or hostile to the 
crusaders. The peculiar genius of the Grecian people was seen 
under this occasion. Their loud and boastful talking corre- 
sponded with the ideas which the Emperor wished to enforce 
upon the crusaders, concerning the extent of his power and 
resources. Nor is it to be disguised, that the wily selfishness 
of most of those in the service of Alexius endeavored to find 
some indirect way of applying the imperial instruction, so as 
might best suit their own private ends. 

Meantime, the news had gone abroad in Constantinople of 
the arrival of the huge miscellaneous army of the west upon 
the limits of the Grecian empire, and of their purpose to pass 
to Palestine. A thousand reports magnified, if that was possible, 
an event so wonderful. Some said, that their ultimate view 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


118 

was the conquest of Arabia, the destruction of the Prophet’s 
tomb, and the conversion of his green banner into a horse-cloth 
for the King of France’s brother. Other supposed that the 
ruin and sack of Constantinople was the real object of the war. 
A. third class thought it was in order to compel the Patriarch 
lo submit himself to the Pope, adopt the Latin form of the 
jross, and put an end to the schism. 

The Varangians enjoyed an addition to this wonderful news, 
seasoned as it everywhere was with something peculiarly suited 
to the prejudice of the hearers. It was gathered originally 
from what our friend Hereward, who was one of their inferior 
officers, called sergeants or constables, had suffered to transpire 
of what he had heard the preceding evening. Considering that 
the fact must be soon matter of notoriety, he had no hesitation 
to give his comrades to understand that a Norman army was 
coming hither under Duke Robert, the son of the far-famed 
William the conqueror, and with hostile intentions, he con- 
cluded, against them in particular. Like all other men in 
peculiar circumstances, the Varangians adopted an explanation 
applicable to their own condition. These Normans, who hated 
the Saxon nation, and had done so much to dishonor and 
oppress them, were now following them, they supposed, to the 
foreign capital where they had found refuge, with the purpose 
of making war on the bountiful prince who protected their sad 
remnant. Under this belief, maJty a deep oath was sworn in 
Norse and Anglo-Saxon, that their keen battle-axes should 
avenge the slaughter of Hastings, and many a pledge, both in 
wine and ale, was quaffed who should most deeply resent, and 
most effectually revenge, the wrongs which the Anglo-Saxons 
of England had received at the hand of their oppressors. 

Hereward, the author of this intelligence, began soon to be 
sorry that he had ever suffered it to escape him, so closely was 
he cross-examined concerning its precise import, by the inquiries 
of his comrades, from whom he thought himself obliged to 
keep concealed the adventures of the preceding evening, and 
the place in which he had gained his information. 

About noon, when he was effectually tired with returning 
the same answer to the same questions, and evading similar 
others which were repeatedly put to him, the sound of trumpets 
announced the presence of the Acolyte, Achilles Tatius, who 
came immediately, it was industriously whispered, from the 
sacred Interior, with news of the immediate approach of war. 

The Varangians, and the Roman bands called Immortal, it 
was said, were to form a camp under the city, in order to b§ 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


119 

prompt to defend it at the shortest notice. This put the whole 
barracks into commotion, each man making the necessary 
provision for the approaching campaign. The noise was chiefly 
that of joyful bustle and acclamation ; and it was so general, 
that Hereward, whose rank permitted him to commit to a page 
or esquire the -task of preparing his equipments, took the 
opportunity to leave the barracks, in order to seek some dis- 
tant place apart from his comrades, and enjoy his solitary 
reflections upon the singular connection into which he had been 
drawn, and his direct communication with the Imperial family. 

Passing through the narrow streets, then deserted on account 
of the heat of the sun, he reached at length one of those broad 
terraces, which, descending as it were by steps, upon the margin 
of the Bosphorus, formed one of the most splendid walks in the 
universe, and still, it is believed, preserved as a public prome- 
nade for the pleasure of the Turks, as formerly for that of the 
Christians. These graduated terraces were planted with many 
trees, among which the cypress, as usual, was most generally 
cultivated. Here bands of the inhabitants were to be seen : 
some passing to and fro, with business and anxiety in their 
faces ; some standing still in groups, as if discussing the strange 
and weighty tidings of the day, and some, with the indolent 
carelessness of an eastern climate, eating their noontide refresh- 
ment in the shade, and spending their time as if their sole object 
was to make much of the day as it passed, and let the cares of 
to-morrow answer for themselves. 

While the Varangian, afraid of meeting some acquaintance 
in this concourse, which would have been inconsistent with the 
desire of seclusion which had brought him thither, descended or 
passed from one terrace to another, all marked him with looks of 
curiosity and inquiry, considering him to be one, who, from his 
arms and connection with the court, must necessarily know 
more than others concerning the singular invasion by numerous 
enemies, and from various quarters, which was the news of the 
day. 

None, however, had the hardihood to address the soldier of 
the guard, though all looked at him with uncommon interest. 
He walked from the lighter to the darker alleys, from the more 
closed to the more open terraces, without interruption from any 
one, yet not without a feeling that he must not consider himself 
as alone. 

The desire that he felt to be solitary rendered him at last 
somewhat watchful, so that he became sensible that he was 
dogged by a black slave, a personage not so unfrequent in the 


120 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


streets of Constantinople as to excite any particular notice. His 
attention, however, being at length fixed on this individual, he 
began to be desirous to escape his observation ; and the change 
of place which he had at first adopted to avoid society in general, 
he had now recourse to, in order to rid himself of this distant, 
though apparently watchful attendant. Still, however, though 
he by change of place had lost sight of the negro for a few 
minutes, it was not long ere he again discovered him at a dis- 
tance too far for a companion, but near enough to serve all the 
purposes of a spy. Displeased at this, the Varangian turned 
short in his walk, and choosing a spot where none was in sight 
but the object of his resentment, walked suddenly up to him, 
and demanded wherefore, and by whose orders, he presumed to 
dog his footsteps. The negro answered in a jargon as bad as 
that in which he was addressed, though of a different kind, 
“ that he had orders to remark whither he went.” 

“ Orders from whom ? ” said the Varangian, 

“ From my master and yours,” answered the negro, boldly. 

“ Thou infidel villain ! ” exclaimed the angry soldier, “ when 
was it that we became fellow-servants, and who is it that thou 
darest to call my master ? ” 

“ One who is master of the world,” said the slave, “ since he 
commands his own passions.” 

“ I shall scarce command mine,” said the Varangian, “if 
thou repliest to my earnest questions with thine affected quirks 
of philosophy. Once more, what dost thou want with me ? and 
why hast thou the boldness to watch me ? ” 

“ I have told thee already,” said the slave, “ that I do my 
master’s commands.” 

“ But I must know who thy master is,” said Hereward. 

“ He must tell thee that himself,” replied the negro ; “ he 
trusts not a poor slave like me with the purpose of the errands 
on which he sends me.” 

“ He has left thee a tongue, however,” said the Varangian, 
“ which some of thy countrymen would, I think, be glad to 
possess. Do not provoke me to abridge it by refusing me the 
information which I have a right to demand.” 

The black meditated, as it seemed from the grin on his face, 
further evasions, when Hereward cut them short by raising the 
staff of his battle-axe. “ Put me not,” he said, “ to dishonor 
myself by striking thee with this weapon, calculated for a use so 
much more noble.” 

“ I may not do so, valiant sir,” said the negro, laying aside 
en impudent, half-gibing tone which he had hitherto made use 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


121 


of, and betraying personal fear in his manner. l{ If you beat 
the poor slave to death, you cannot learn what his master hath 
forbid him to tell. A short walk will save your honor the stain, 
and yourself the trouble, of beating what cannot resist, and me 
the pain of enduring what I can neither retaliate nor avoid.” 

“ Lead on then,” said the Varangian. “Be assured thou 
shalt not fool me by thy fair words, and I will know the person 
who is impudent enough to assume the right of watching my 
motions.” 

The black walked on with a species of leer peculiar to his 
physiognomy, which might be construed as expressive either of 
malice or of mere humor. The Varangian followed him with 
some suspicion, for it happened that he had had little inter- 
course with the unhappy race of Africa, and had not totally 
overcome the feeling of surprise with which he had at first 
regarded them, when he arrived a stranger from the north. 
So often did this man look back upon him during their walk, 
and with so penetrating and observing a cast of countenance, 
that Hereward felt irresistibly renewed in his mind the English 
prejudices, which assigned to the demons the sable color 
and distorted cast of visage of his conductor. The scene 
into which he was guided strengthened an association which 
was not of itself unlikely to occur to the ignorant and martial 
islander. 

The negro led the way from the splendid terraced walks which 
we have described, to a path descending to the sea-shore, when 
a place appeared, which, far from being trimmed, like other 
parts of the coast, into walks of embankments, seemed, on the 
contrary, abandoned to neglect, and was covered with the moul- 
dering ruins of antiquity, where these had not been overgrown 
by the luxuriant vegetation of the climate. These fragments of 
building, occupying a sort of recess of the bay, were hidden by 
steep banks on each side ; and although in fact they formed 
part of the city, yet they were not seen from any part of it, and, 
embosomed in the manner we have described, did not in turn 
command any view of the churches, palaces, towers, and fortifi- 
cations, amongst which they lay. The sight of this solitary, 
and apparently deserted spot, encumbered with ruins, and over- 
grown with cypress and other trees, situated as it was in the 
midst of a populous city, had something in it impressive and 
awful to the imagination. The ruins were of an ancient date, 
and in the style of a foreign people. The gigantic remains of a 
portico, the mutilated fragments of statues of great size, but 
executed in a taste and attitude so narrow and barbaric as to 


122 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


seem perfectly the reverse of the Grecian, and the half-defaced 
hieroglyphics which could be traced on some part of the de- 
cayed sculpture, corroborated the popular account of their origin, 
which we shall briefly detail. 

According to tradition, this had been a temple dedicated to 
the Egyptian goddess Cybele, built while the Roman Empire 
was yet heathen, and while Constantinople was still called by 
the name of Byzantium. It is well known that the superstition 
of the Egyptians — vaguely gross in its literal meaning as well 
as in its mystical interpretation, and peculiarly the foundation 
of so many wild doctrines, was disowned by the principles of 
general toleration, and the system of polytheism received by 
Rome, and was excluded by repeated laws from the respect paid 
by the empire to almost every other religion, however extrav- 
agant or absurd. Nevertheless, these Egyptian rites had 
charms for the curious and the superstitious, and had, after long 
opposition, obtained a footing in the empire. 

Still, although tolerated, the Egyptian priests were rather 
considered as sorcerers than as pontiffs, and their whole ritual 
had a nearer relation to magic in popular estimation, than to 
any regular system of devotion. 

Stained with these accusations, even among the heathen 
themselves, the worship of Egypt was held in more mortal ab- 
horrence by the Christians, than the other and more rational 
kinds of heathen devotion ; that is, if any at all had a right to 
be termed so. The brutal worship of Apis and Cybele was re- 
garded, not only as a pretext for obscene and profligate pleas- 
ures, but as having a direct tendency to open and encourage a 
dangerous commerce with evil spirits, who was supposed to 
take upon themselves, at these unhallowed altars, the names 
and characters of these foul deities. Not only, therefore, the 
temple of Cybele, with its gigantic portico, its huge and inele- 
gant statues, and its fantastic hieroglyphics, was thrown down 
and defaced when the empire was converted to the Christian 
faith, but the very ground on which it stood was considered as 
polluted and unhallowed ; and no Emperor having yet occupied 
the site with a Christian church, the place still remained neg- 
lected and deserted as we have described it. 

The Varangian Hereward was perfectly acquainted with the 
evil reputation of the place ; and when the negro seemed dis- 
posed to advance into the interior of the ruins, he hesitated, 
and addressed his guide thus : — “ Hark thee, my black friend, 
these huge fantastic images, some having dogs’ heads, some 
cows’ heads, and some no heads at all, are not held reverently 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


123 


in popular estimation. Your own color, also, my comrade, is 
greatly too like that of Satan himself, to render you an unsus- 
picious companion amid ruins, in which the false spirit, it is 
said, daily walks his rounds. Midnight and Noon are the 
times, it is rumored, of his appearance. I will go no farther 
with you, unless you assign me a fit reason for so doing.” 

“In making so childish a proposal,” said the negro, “you 
take from me, in effect, all desire to guide you to my master. 
I thought I spoke to a man of invincible courage, and of that 
good sense upon which courage is best founded. But your 
valor only emboldens you to beat a black slave, who has neither 
strength nor title to resist you ; and your courage is not enough 
to enable you to look without trembling on the dark side of a 
wall, even when the sun is in the heavens.” 

“Thou art insolent,” said Hereward, raising his axe. 

“ And thou art foolish,” said the negro, “ to attempt to 
prove thy manhood and thy wisdom by the very mode which 
gives reason for calling them both in question. I have already 
said there can be little valor in beating a wretch like me ; and 
no man, surely, who wishes to discover his way, would begin by 
chasing away his guide.” 

“ I follow thee ” — said Hereward, stung with the insinuation 
of cowardice ; “but if thou leadest me into a snare, thy free 
talk shall not save thy bones, if a thousand of thy complexion, 
from earth or hell, were standing ready to back thee.” 

“ Thou objectest sorely to my complexion,” said the negro ; 
“ how knowest thou that it is, in fact, a thing to be counted 
and acted upon as matter of reality ? Thine own eyes daily 
apprise thee, that the color of the sky nightly changes from 
bright to black, yet thou knowest that this is by no means 
owing to any habitual color of the heavens themselves. The 
same change that takes place in the hue of the heavens has 
existence in the tinge of the deep sea — How canst thou tell, 
but what the difference of my color from thine own may be 
owing to some deceptious change of a similar nature — not real 
in itself, but only creating an apparent reality ? ” 

“ Thou mayst have painted thyself, no doubt,” answered the 
Varangian, upon reflection, “ and thy blackness, therefore, may 
be only apparent ; but I think thy old friend himself could 
hardly have presented these grinning lips, with the white teeth 
and flattened nose, so much to the life, unless that peculiarity 
of Nubian physiognomy, as they call it, had accurately and really 
an existence ; and to save thee some trouble, my dark friend, 
I will tell thee, that though thou speakest to an uneducated 


124 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


Varangian, I am not entirely unskilled in the Grecian art of 
making subtle words pass upon the hearers instead of reason.” 

“ Ay ? ” said the negro, doubtfully, and somewhat surprised • 
“ and may the slave Diogenes — for so my master has chris- 
tened me — inquire into the means by which you reached knowl- 
edge so unusual ? ” 

“It is soon told,” replied Hereward. “My countryman, 
Witikind, being a constable of our bands, retired from active 
service, and spent the end of a long life in this city of Con- 
stantinople. Being past all toils of battle, either those of 
reality, as you word it, or the pomp and fatigue of the exercis- 
ing ground, the poor old man in despair of something to pass 
his time, attended the lectures of the philosophers.” 

“ And what did he learn there ? ” said the negro ; “ for a 
barbarian, grown gray under the helmet, was not, as I think, a 
very hopeful student in our schools.” 

“ As much though, I should think, as a menial slave, which 
I understand to be thy condition,” replied the soldier. “ But 
I have understood from him, that the masters of this idle science 
make it their business to substitute, in their argumentations, 
mere words instead of ideas ; and as they never agree upon tne 
precise meaning of the former, their disputes can never arrive 
at a fair or settled conclusion, since they do not agree in the 
language in which they express them. Their theories, as they 
call them, are built on the sand, and the wind and tide shall 
prevail against them.” 

“ Say so to my master,” answered the black, in a serious 
tone. 

. “ 1 will >” ?aid the Varangian ; “ and shall know me as an 

ignorant soldier, having but few ideas, and those only concern- 
ing my religion and my military duty. But out of these opin- 
ions I will neither be beaten by a battery of sophists, nor 
cheated by the arts or terrors of the friends of heathenism, 
either in this world or the next.” 

“You may speak your mind to him then yourself,” said 
Diogenes. He stepped to a side as if to make way for the 
Varangian, to whom he motioned to go forward. 

Hereward advanced accordingly, by a half-worn and almost 
imperceptible path leading through the long rough grass, and 
turning round a half-demolished shrine, which exhibited the 
remains of Apis, the bovine deity, he came immediately in 
front of the philosopher, Agelastes, who, sitting among the 
ruins reposed his limbs on the grass. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


l2 S 


CHAPTER EIGHTH. 


Through the vain webs which puzzle sophist’s skill. 

£lain sense and honest meaning work their way : 

So sink the varying clouds upon the hill, 

When the clear dawning brightens into day. 

Dr. Watts. 

The old man rose from the ground with alacrity, as Here- 
ward approached. “ My bold Varangian,” he said, “thou who 
valuest men and things not according to the false estimate as- 
cribed to them m this world, but to their real importance and 
actual value, thou art welcome, whatever has brought thee 
hither— thou art welcome to a place where it is held the best 
business of philosophy to strip man of his borrowed ornaments, 
and reduce him to the just value of his own attributes of body 
and mind, singly considered.” 

“ You are a courtier, sir,” said the Saxon, “and, as a per- 
mitted companion of the Emperor’s Highness, you must be aware 
that there are twenty times more ceremonies than such a man 
as I can be acquainted with for regulating the different ranks 
in society; while a plain man like myself may be well excused 
from pushing himself into the company of those above him, 
where he does not exactly know how he should comport him- 
self.” 

“True,” said the philosopher ; “but a man like )’ourself, 
noble Hereward, merits more consideration in the eyes of a real 
philosopher than a thousand of those mere insects, whom the 
smiles of a court call into life, and whom its frowns reduce to 
annihilation.” 

“ You are yourself, grave sir, a follower of the court,” said 
Hereward. 

“ And a most punctilious one,” said Agelastes. “ There is 
not, I trust, a subject in the empire who knows better the ten 
thousand punctilios exigible from those of different ranks, and 
due to different authorities. The man is yet to be born who 
has seen me make take advantage of any more commodious 
posture than that of standing in presence of the royal family. 
But though I use those false scales in society, and so far con- 
form to its errors, my real judgment is of a more grave char- 
acter, and more worthy of man, as said to be formed in the 
image of his Creator.” 


126 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“There can be small occasion,” said the Varangian, " to 
exercise your judgment in any respect upon me, nor am I 
desirous that any one should think of me otherwise than I am ; 
— a poor exile, namely, who endeavors to fix his faith upon 
Heaven, and to perform his duty to the world he lives in, and 
to the prince in whose service he is engaged. — And now, grave 
sir, permit me to ask, whether this meeting is by your desire, 
and for what is its purpose ? An African slave, whom I met 
in the public walks, and who calls himself Diogenes, tells me 
that you desired to speak with me ; he hath somewhat the hu- 
mor of the old scoffer, and so he may have lied. If so, I will 
even forgive him the beating which I owe his assurance, and 
make my excuse at the same time for having broken in upon 
your retirement, which I am totally unfit to share.” 

“ Diogenes has not played you false,” answered Agelastes ; 
“ he has his humors, as you remarked even now, and with these 
some qualities also that put him upon a level with those of 
fairer complexion and better features.” 

“ And for what,” said the Varangian, “ have you so employed 
him ? Can your wisdom possibly entertain a wish to converse 
with me?” 

“ I am an observer of nature and of humanity,” answered 
the philosopher ; “ is it not natural that I should tire of those 
beings who are formed entirely upon artifice, and long to see 
something more fresh from the hand of nature ? ” 

“ You see not that in me,” said the Varangian ; “ the rigor 
of military discipline, the camp— the centurion — the armor- 
frame a man’s sentiments and limbs to them, as the sea-crab is 
framed to its shell. See one of us, and you see us all.” 

“ Permit me to doubt that,” said Agelastes ; “ and to sup- 
pose that in Hereward, the son of Waltheoff, I see an extraor- 
dinary man, although he himself may be ignorant, owing to his 
modesty, of the rarity of his own good qualities.” 

“ The son of Waltheoff! ” answered the Varangian, some- 
what startled. — “ Do you know my father’s name ? ” 

Be not surprised,” answered the philosopher, “ at my 
possessing so simple a piece of information. It has cost me 
but little trouble to. attain it, yet I would gladly hope that the 
labor I have taken in that matter may convince you of my real 
desire to call you friend.” 

u “ I* was indeed an unusual compliment,” said Hereward, 
that a man of your knowledge and station should be at the 
trouble to inquire, among the Varangian cohorts, concerning 
the descent of one of their constables. I scarcely think that 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


l2 7 

my commander, the Acolyte himself, would think such knowl* 
edge worthy of being collected or preserved.” 

“ Greater men than he,” said Agelastes, “ certainly would 

not You know one in high office who thinks the names of 

his most faithful soldiers of less moment than those of his 
hunting dogs or his hawks, and would willingly save himself 
the trouble of calling them otherwise than by a whistle.” 

“I may not hear this,” answered the Varangian. 

“ I would not offend you,” said the philosopher, “ I would 
not even shake your good opinion of the person I allude to ; 
yet it surprises me that such should be entertained by one of 
your great qualities.” 

“ A truce with this, grave sir, which is in fact trifling in a 
person of your character and appearance,” answered the Anglo- 
Saxon. “ I am like the rocks of my country ; the fierce winds 
cannot shake me, the soft rains cannot melt me ; flattery and 
loud words are alike lost upon me.” 

“And it is even for that inflexibility of mind,” replied 
Agelastes, “ that steady contempt of everything that approaches 
thee, save in the light of a duty, that I demand, almost like a 
beggar, that personal acquaintance, which thou refusest like a 
churl.” 

“ Pardon me,” said Hereward, “ if I doubt this. Whatever 
stories you may have picked up concerning me, not unexag- 
gerated probably — since the Greeks do not keep the privilege 
of boasting so entirely to themselves but the Varangians have 
learned a little of it — you can have heard nothing of me which 
can authorize your using your present language, excepting in 
jest.” 

“You mistake, my son,” said Agelastes ; “believe me not 
a person to mix in the idle talk respecting you, with your com- 
rades at the ale-cup. Such as I am, I can strike on this broken 
image of Anubis ” — (here he touched a gigantic fragment of a 
statue by his side) — “ and bid the spirit who long prompted the 
oracle descend, and once more reanimate the trembling mass. 
We that are initiated enjoy high privileges — we stamp upon 
those ruined vaults, and the echo which dwells there answers 
to our demand. Do not think, that although I crave thy friend- 
ship, I need therefore supplicate thee for information either 
respecting thee or others.” 

“Your words are wonderful,” said the Anglo-Saxon ; “but 
by such promising words I have heard that many souls have 
been seduced from the path of heaven. My grandsire, Kenelm, 
was wont to say that the fair words of the heathen philosophy 


128 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


were more hurtful to the Christian faith than the menaces of 
the heathen tyrants.” 

“ I knew him,” said Agelastes. “ What avails it whether it 
was in the body or in the spirit ? — He was converted from the 
faith of Woden by a noble monk, and died a priest at the shrine 
of Saint Augustin.” * 

“True” — said Hereward; “all this is certain — and I am 
the rather bound to remember his words now that he is dead 
and gone. When I hardly knew his meaning, he bid me beware 
of the doctrine which causeth to err, which is taught by false 
prophets, who attest their doctrine by unreal miracles.” 

“ This,” said Agelastes, “ is mere superstition. Thy grand- 
sire was a good and excellent man, but narrow-minded, like 
other priests ; and, deceived by their example, he wished but 
to open a small wicket in the gate of truth, and admit the world 
only on that limited scale. Seest thou, Hereward, thy grandsire 
and most men of religion would fain narrow our intellect to the 
consideration of such parts of the immaterial world as are es- 
sential to our moral guidance here, and our final salvation here- 
after ; but it is not the less true that man has liberty, provided 
he has wisdom and courage, to form intimacies with beings 
more powerful than himself, who can defy the bounds of space 
by which he is circumscribed, and overcome, by their metaphys- 
ical powers, difficulties which to the timid and unlearned may 
appear wild and impossible.” 

“ You talk of a folly,” answered Hereward, “ at which child- 
hood gapes and manhood smiles.” 

“ On the contrary,” said the sage, “ I talk of a longing wish 
which every man feels at the bottom of his heart to hold 
communication with beings more powerful than himself, and 
who are not naturally accessible to our organs. Believe me, 
Hereward, so ardent and universal an aspiration had not ex- 
isted in our bosoms, had there not also been means, if steadily 
and wisely sought, of attaining its accomplishment. I will ap- 
peal to thine own heart, and prove to thee even by a single 
word that what I say is truth. Thy thoughts are even now upon 
a being long absent or dead, and with the name of Bertha a 
thousand emotions rush to thy heart, which in thy ignorance 
thou hadst esteemed furled up forever, like spoils of the dead 
hung above a tombstone ! — Thou startest and changest thy 
color — I joy to see by these signs that the firmness and in- 
domitable courage which men ascribe to thee have left the 
avenues of the heart as free as ever to kindly and to generous 

* At Canterbury. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


129 


affections, while they have barred them against those of fear, 
uncertainty, and all the caitiff tribe of meaner sensations. I 
have proffered to esteem thee, and I have no hesitation in 
proving it. I will tell thee, if thou desirest to know it, the fate 
of that very Bertha, whose memory thou hast cherished in thy 
breast in spite of thee, amidst the toil of the day and the repose 
of the night, in the battle and in the truce, when sporting with 
thy companions in fields of exercise, or attempting to prosecute 
the study of Greek learning, in which if thou wouldst advance, 
I can teach it by a short road.” 

While Agelastes thus spoke, the Varangian in some degree 
recovered his composure, and made answer, though his voice was 
somewhat tremulous — 

“ Who thou art, I know not — what thou wouldst with me, I 
cannot tell — by what means thou hast gathered intelligence of 
such consequence to me, and of so little to another, I have no 
conception — But this I know, that, by intention or accident, 
thou hast pronounced a name which agitates my heart to its 
deepest recesses; yet am I a Christian and Varangian, and 
neither to my God nor to my adopted prince will I willingly 
stagger in my faith. What is to be wrought by idols or by false 
deities must be a treason to the real divinity. Nor is it less 
certain that thou hast let glance some arrows, though the rules 
of thy allegiance strictly forbid it, at the Emperor himself. 
Henceforward, therefore, I refuse to communicate with thee, 
be it for weal or woe. I am the Emperor’s waged soldier, and 
although I affect not the nice precisions of respect and obedi- 
ence, which are exacted in so many various cases, and by so 
many various rules, yet I am his defence, and my battle-axe is 
his body-guard.” 

“No one doubts it,” said the philosopher. “ But art not 
thou also bound to a nearer dependence upon the great Acolyte, 
Achilles Tatius ? ” 

“ No. He is my general, according to the rules of our ser- 
vice,” answered the Varangian; “to me he has always shown 
himself a kind and good-natured man, and, his dues of rank 
apart, I may say has deported himself as a friend rather than a 
commander. He is, however, my master’s servant as well as I 
am ; nor do I hold the difference of great amount, which the 
word of a man can give or take away at pleasure.” 

“ It is nobly spoken,” said Agelastes ; “ and you yourself 
are surely entitled to stand erect before one whom you supersede 
in courage and in the art of war.” 

“ Pardon me,” returned the Briton, “ if I decline the attrib- 


I 3 0 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


uted compliment, as what in no respect belongs to me. The 
Emperor chooses his own officers, in respect of their power of 
serving him as he desires to be served. In this it is likely I 
might fail ; I have said already, I owe my Emperor my obedi- 
ence, my duty, and my service, nor does it seem to me necessary 
to carry our explanation farther.” 

“ Singular man ! ” said Agelastes ; “ is there nothing that 
can move thee, but things that are foreign to thyself ? The 
name of thy Emperor and thy commander are no spell upon 
thee, and even that of the object thou hast loved ” 

Here the Varangian interrupted him. 

“ I have thought,” he said, “ upon the words thou hast 
spoken — thou hast found the means to shake my heart-strings, 
but not to unsettle my principles. I will hold no converse with 
thee on a matter in which thou canst not have interest. — Necro- 
mancers, it is said, perform their spells by means of the epithets 
of the Holiest ; no marvel, then, should they use the names of 
the purest of his creation to serve their unhallowed purposes. 
I will none of such truckling, disgraceful to the dead perhaps 
as to the living. Whatever has been thy purpose, old man, — 
for, think not thy strange words have passed unnoticed — be 
thou assured I bear that in my heart which defies alike the 
seduction of men and of friends.” 

With this the soldier turned, and left the ruined temple, after 
a slight inclination of his head to the philosopher. 

Agelastes, after the departure of the soldier, remained alone, 
apparently absorbed in meditation, until he was suddenly dis- 
turbed by the entrance, into the ruins, of Achilles Tatius. The 
leader of the Varangians spoke not until he had time to form 
some result from the philosopher’s features. He then said, 
“ Thou remainest, sage Agelastes, confident in the purpose of 
which we have lately spoken together ? ” 

“ I do,” said Agelastes, with gravity and firmness. 

“ But,” replied Achilles Tatius, “ thou hast not gained to our 
side that proselyte, whose coolness and courage would serve us 
better in our hour of need than the service of a thousand cold- 
hearted slaves ? ” 

“ I have not succeeded,” answered the philosopher. 

“ And thou dost not blush to own it ? ” said the imperial 
officer in reply. “ Thou, the wisest of those who yet pretend to 
Grecian wisdom, the most powerful of those who still assert the 
skill, by words, signs, names, periapts, and spells, to exceed the 
sphere to which thy faculties belong, hast been foiled in thy 
trade of persuasion, like an infant worsted in debate with its 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


131 

domestic tutor? Out upon thee, that thou canst not sustain 
in argument the character which thou wouldst so fain assume 
to thyself ! ” 

“ Peace ! ” said the Grecian. “ I have as yet gained nothing, 
it is true, over this obstinate and inflexible man ; but, Achilles 
Tatius, neither have I lost. We both stand where yesterday 
we did, with this advantage on my side, that I have suggested 
to him such an object of interest as he shall never be able to 
expel from his mind, until he hath had recourse to me to obtain 
farther knowledge concerning it. — And now let this singular 
person remain for a time un mentioned ; yet, trust me, though 
flattery, avarice, and ambition may fail to gain him, a bait 
nevertheless remains, that shall make him as completely our 
own as any that is bound within our mystic and inviolable con- 
tract. Tell me then, how go on the affairs of the empire ? 
Does this tide of Latin warriors, so strangely set aflowing, still 
rush on to the banks of the Bosphorus ? and does Alexius still 
entertain hopes to diminish and divide the strength of numbers, 
which he could in vain hope to defy ? ” 

“ Something further of intelligence has been gained, even 
within a very few hours,” answered Achilles Tatius. “ Bohe- 
mond came to the city with some six or eight light horse, and 
in a species of disguise. Considering how often he had been 
the Emperor’s enemy, his project was a perilous one. But 
when is it that these Franks draw back on account of danger? 
The Emperor perceived at once that the Count was come to 
see what he might obtain, by presenting himself as the very 
first object of his liberality, and by offering his assistance as 
mediator with Godfrey of Bouillon and the other princes of the 
crusade.” 

“ It is a species of policy,” answered the sage, “ for which 
he would receive full credit from the Emperor.” 

Achilles Tatius proceeded : — “ Count Bohemond was dis- 
covered to the imperial court as if it were by mere accident, 
and he was welcomed with marks of favor and splendor which 
had never been even mentioned as being fit for any one of the 
Frankish race. There was no word of ancient enmity or of 
former wars, no mention of Bohemond as the ancient usurper 
of Antioch, and the encroacher upon the empire. But thanks 
to Heaven were returned on all sides, which had sent a faithful 
ally to the imperial assistance at a moment of such imminent 
peril.” 

“ And what said Bohemond ? ” inquired the philosopher. 

“ Little or nothing,” said the captain of the Varangians 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


nz 

“ until, as I learned from the domestic slave Narses, a large sum 
of gold had been abandoned to him. Considerable districts 
were afterwards agreed to be ceded to him, and other advan- 
tages granted, on condition he should stand on this occasion 
the steady friend of the empire and its master. Such was the 
Emperor’s munificence towards the greedy barbarian, that a 
chamber in the palace was, by chance, as it were, left exposed 
to his view, containing large quantities of manufactured silks, 
of jewellers’ work, of gold and silver, and other articles of great 
value. When the rapacious Frank could not forbear some ex- 
pressions of admiration, he was assured that the contents of 
the treasure-chamber were his own, provided he valued them 
as showing forth the warmth and sincerity of his imperial ally 
towards his friends ; and these precious articles were accord- 
ingly conveyed to the tent of the Norman leader. By such 
measures, the Emperor must make himself master of Bohemond, 
both body and soul, for the Franks themselves say it is strange 
to see a man of undaunted bravery, and towering ambition, so 
infected, nevertheless, with avarice, which they term a mean 
and unnatural vice.” 

“ Bohemond,” said Agelastes, “ is then the Emperor’s for 
life and death — always, that is, till the recollection of the royal 
munificence be effaced by a greater gratuity. Alexius, proud 
as he naturally is of his management with this important chief- 
tain, will no doubt expect to prevail by his counsels on most of 
the other crusaders, and even on Godfrey of Bouillon himself, 
to take an oath of submission and fidelity to the Emperor, 
which, were it not for the sacred nature of their warfare, the 
meanest gentleman among them would not submit to, were it 
to be lord of a province. There, then, we rest. A few days 
must determine what we have to do. An earlier discovery 
would be destruction.” 

“ We meet not then to-night ? ” said the Acolyte. 

“ No,” replied the sage ; “ unless we are summoned to that 
foolish stage-play or recitation ; and then we meet as playthings 
in the hand of a silly woman, the spoiled child of a weak-minded 
parent.” 

Tatius then took his leave of the philosopher, and, as if 
fearful of being seen in each other’s company, they left their 
solitary place of meeting by different routes. The Varangian, 
Hereward, received, shortly after, a summons from his superior, 
who acquainted him, that he should not, as formerly intimated, 
require his attendance that evening. 

Achilles then paused, and added, — “ Thou hast something 


COUNT ROBERT OB BARIS. 


*33 

on thy lips thou wouldst say to me, which, nevertheless, hesi- 
tates to break forth.” 

“ It is only this,” answered the soldier : — “ I have had an 
interview with the man called Agelastes, and he seems some- 
thing so different from what he appeared when we last spoke 
of him, that I cannot forbear mentioning to you what I have 
seen. He is not an insignificant trifler, whose object it is to 
raise a laugh at his own expense, or that of any other. He is 
a deep-thinking and far-reaching man, who, for some reason or 
other, is desirous of forming friends, and drawing a party to 
himself. Your own wisdom will teach you to beware of him.” 

“ Thou art an honest fellow, my poor Hereward,” said 
Achilles Tatius, with an affectation of good-natured contempt. 
“ Such men as Agelastes do often frame their severest jests in 
the shape of formal gravity — they will pretend to possess the 
most unbounded power over elements and elemental spirits — 
they will make themselves masters of the names and anecdotes 
best known to those whom they make their sport ; and any 
one who shall listen to them, shall, in the words of the divine 
Homer, only expose himself to a flood of inextinguishable 
laughter. I have often known him select one of the rawest and 
most ignorant persons in presence, and to him, for the amuse- 
ment of the rest, he has pretended to cause the absent to ap- 
pear, the distant to draw near, and the dead themselves to 
burst the cerements of the grave. Take care, Hereward, that 
his arts make not a stain on the credit of one of my bravest 
Varangians.” 

“ There is no danger,” answered Hereward. “ I shall not 
be fond of being often with this man. If he jests upon one 
subject which he hath mentioned to me, I shall be but too likely 
to teach him seriousness after a rough manner. And if he is 
serious in his pretensions in such mystical matters, we should, 
according to the faith of my grandfather, Kenelm, do insult to 
the deceased, whose name is taken in the mouth of a sooth- 
sayer, or impious enchanter. I will not, therefore, again go 
near this Agelastes, be he wizard, or be he impostor.” 

“You apprehend me not,” said the Acolyte, hastily; “you 
mistake my meaning. He is a man from whom, if he pleases 
to converse with such as you, you may derive much knowledge ; 
keeping out of the reach of those pretended secret arts, which 
he will only use to turn thee into ridicule.” With these words, 
which he himself would perhaps have felt it difficult to recon- 
cile, the leader and his follower parted. 


134 


COUNT ROBERT OF FAR/S. 


CHAPTER NINTH. 


Between the foaming jaws of the white torrent 
The skilful artist draws a sudden mound ; 

By level long he subdivides their strength, 

Stealing the waters from their rocky bed, 

First to diminish what he means to conquer ; 

Then, for the residue he forms a road. 

Easy to keep, and painful to desert, 

And guiding to the end the planner aim’d at. 

The Engineer. 

It would have been easy for Alexius, by a course of avowed 
suspicion, or any false step in the manner of receiving this 
tumultuary invasion of the European nations, to have blown 
into a flame the numerous but smothered grievances under 
which they labored ; and a similar catastrophe would not have 
been less certain, had he at once abandoned all thoughts of 
resistance, and placed his hope of safety in surrendering to the 
multitudes of the west whatsoever they accounted worth taking. 
The Emperor chose a middle course ; and, unquestionably, in 
the weakness of the Greek empire, it was the only one which 
would have given him at once safety, and a great degree of 
consequence in the eyes of the Frank invaders and those of 
his own subjects. The means with which he acted were of vari- 
ous kinds, and, rather from policy than inclination, were often 
stained with falsehood or meanness ; therefore it follows, that 
the measures of the Emperor resembled those of the snake, 
who twines himself through the grass, with the purpose of 
stinging insidiously those whom he fears to approach with the 
step of the bold and generous lion. We are not, however writ- 
ing the history of the Crusades, and what we have already said 
of the Emperor’s precautions on the first appearance of Godfrey 
of Bouillon, and his associates, may suffice for the elucidation 
of our story. 

About four weeks had now passed over, marked by quarrels 
and reconcilements between the crusaders and the Grecians of 
the empire. The former were, as Alexius’s policy dictated, 
occasionally and individually received with extreme honor, and 
their leaders loaded with respect and favor ; while, from time 
to time, such bodies of them as sought distant or circuitous 
routes to the capital, were intercepted and cut to pieces by 
light-armed troops, who easily passed upon their ignorant op- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*3 5 

ponenG tor Turks, Scythians, or other infidels, and sometimes 
were actually such, but in the service of the Grecian monarch. 
Often, too, it happened, that while the more powerful chiefs of 
the crusade were feasted by the Emperor and his ministers 
with the richest delicacies, and their thirst slaked with iced 
wines, their followers v/ere left at a distance, where, intentionally 
supplied with adulterated flour, tainted provisions, and bad 
w’ater, they contracted diseases, and died in great numbers, 
without having once seen a foot of the Holy Land, for the 
recovery of which they had abandoned their peace, their com- 
petence, and their native country. These aggressions did not 
pass without complaint. Many of the crusading chiefs impugned 
the fidelity of their allies, exposed the losses sustained by their 
armies as evils voluntarily inflicted on them by the Greeks, and 
on more than one occasion, the two nations stood opposed 
to each other on such terms that a general war seemed to be 
inevitable. 

Alexius, however, though obliged to have recourse to every 
finesse, still kept his ground, and made peace with the most 
powerful chiefs, under one pretence or other. The actual losses 
of the crusaders by the sword he imputed to their own aggres- 
sions — their misguidance to accident and to wilfulness — the 
effects produced on them by the adulterated provisions, to the 
vehemence of their own appetite for raw fruits and unripened 
wines. In short, there was no disaster of any kind whatsoever 
which could possibly befall the unhappy pilgrims, but the 
Emperor stood prepared to prove that it was the natural con- 
sequence of their own violence, wilfulness of conduct, or hostile 
precipitancy. 

The chiefs, who were not ignorant of their strength, would 
not, it was likely, have tamely suffered injuries from a power 
so inferior to their own, were it not that they had formed 
extravagant ideas of the wealth of the Eastern empire, which 
Alexius seemed willing to share with them, with an excess of 
bounty as new to the leaders as the rich productions of the 
East were tempting to their followers. 

The French nobles would perhaps have been the most 
difficult to be brought into order when differences arose ; but an 
accident, which the Emperor might have termed providential, 
reduced the high-spirited Count of Vermandois to the situation 
of a suppliant, when he expected to hold that of a dictator. 
A fierce tempest surprised his fleet after he set sail from Italy, 
and he was finally driven on the coast of Greece. Many ships 
were destroyed, and those troops who got ashore were so much 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


136 

distressed, that they were obliged to surrender themselves to 
the lieutenants of Alexius. So that the Count of Vermandois, 
so haughty in his bearing when he first embarked, was sent to 
the court of Constantinople, not as a prince, but as a prisoner. 
In this case, the Emperor instantly set the soldiers at liberty, 
and loaded them with presents.* 

Grateful, therefore, for attentions in which Alexius was 
unremitting, Count Hugh was by gratitude, as well as interest, 
inclined to join the opinion of those who, for other reasons, 
desired the subsistence of peace betwixt the crusaders and the 
empire of Greece. A better principle determined the celebrated 
Godfrey, Raymond of Thoulouse, and some others, in whom 
devotion was something more than a mere burst of fanaticism. 
These princes considered with what scandal their whole journey 
must be stained, if the first of their exploits should be a war 
upon the Grecian empire, which might justly be called the 
barrier of Christendom. If it was weak, and at the same time 
rich— if at the same time it invited rapine, and was unable to 
protect itself against it — it was the more their interest and duty, 
as Christian soldiers, to protect a Christian state, whose existence 
was of so much consequence to the common cause, even when it 
could not defend itself. It was the wish of these frank-hearted 
men to receive the Emperor’s professions of friendship with such 
sincere returns of amity — to return his kindness with so much 
usury, as to convince him that their purpose towards him was 
in every respect fair and honorable, and that it would be his 
interest to abstain from every injurious treatment which might 
induce or compel them to alter their measures towards him. 

It was with this accommodating spirit towards Alexius, which, 
for many different and complicated reasons, had now animated 
most of the crusaders, that the chiefs consented to a measure 
which, in other circumstances, they would probably have refused, 
as undue to the Greeks, and dishonorable to themselves. This 
was the famous resolution, that, before crossing the Bosphorus 
to go in quest of that Palestine, which they had vowed to regain, 
each chief of crusaders would acknowledge individually the 
Grecian Emperor, originally lord paramount of all these regions, 
as their liege lord and suzerain. 

The Emperor Alexius, with trembling joy, beheld the crusaders 
approach a conclusion to which he had hoped to bribe them 
rather by interested means than by reasoning, although much 
might be said why provinces reconquered from the Turks 01 


* See Mills’ History of the Crusades , vol. i, p. 96. 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


*37 

Saracens should, if recovered from the infidel, become again a 
part of the Grecian empire, from which they had been rent 
without any pretence save that of violence. 

Though fearful, and almost despairing of being able to 
manage the rude and discordant army of haughty chiefs, who 
were wholly independent of each other, Alexius failed not, with 
eagerness and dexterity, to seize upon the admission of Godfrey 
and his compeers, that the Emperor was entitled to the allegiance 
of all who should war on Palestine, and natural lord paramount 
of all the conquests which should be made in the course of the 
expedition. He was resolved to make this ceremony so public, 
and to interest men’s minds in it by such a display of the 
imperial pomp and munificence, that it should not either pass 
unknown, or be readily forgotten. 

An extensive terrace, one of the numerous spaces which 
extend along the coast of the Propontis, was chosen for the site 
of the magnificent ceremony. Here was placed an elevated 
and august throne, calculated for the use of the Emperor alone. 
On this occasion, by suffering no other seats within view of the 
pageant, the Greeks endeavored to secure a point of ceremony 
peculiarly dear to their vanity — namely, that none of that 
presence, save the Emperor himself, should be seated. Around 
the throne of Alexius Comnenus were placed in order, but 
standing, the various dignitaries of his splendid court, in their 
different ranks, from the Protosebastos and the Caesar, to the 
Patriarch, splendid in his ecclesiastical robes, and to Agelastes, 
who, in his simple habit, gave also the necessary attendance. 
Behind and around the splendid display of the Emperor’s court, 
were drawn many dark circles of the exiled Anglo-Saxons. 
These, by their own desire, were not, on that memorable day, 
accoutred in the silver corselets which were the fashion of an 
idle court, but sheathed in mail and plate. They desired, they 
said, to be' known as warriors to warriors. This was the more 
readily granted, as there was no knowing what trifle might 
infringe a truce between parties so inflammable as were now 
assembled. 

Beyond the Varangians, in much greater numbers, were drawn 
up the bands of Grecians, or Romans, then known by the title of 
Immortals, which had been borrowed by the Romans originally 
from the empire of Persia. The stately forms, lofty crests, and 
splendid apparel of these guards, would- have given the foreign 
princes present a higher idea of their military prowess, had there 
Wot occurred in their ranks a frequent indication of loquacity and 
of motion, forming a strong contrast to the steady composure and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


* 3 * 

death-like silence with* which the well-trained Varangians stood 
in the parade, like statues made of iron. 

The reader must then conceive this throne in all the pomp of 
Oriental greatness, surrounded by the foreign and Roman troops 
of the empire, and closed on the rear by clouds of light-horse, 
who shifted their places repeatedly, so as to convey an idea of 
their multitude, without affording the exact means of estimating 
it. Through the dust which they raised by these evolutions, 
might be seen banners and standards, among which could be 
discovered by glances the celebrated Labarum,* the pledge of 
conquest to the imperial banners, but whose sacred efficacy had 
somewhat failed of late days. The rude soldiers of the West, 
who viewed the Grecian army, maintained that the standards 
which were exhibited in front of their line were at least suf- 
ficient for the array of ten times the number of soldiers. 

Far on the right, the appearance of a very large body of 
European cavalry, drawn up on the sea-shore, intimated the 
presence of the crusaders. So great was the desire to follow 
the example of the chief Princes, Dukes, and Counts, in making 
the proposed fealty, that the number of independent knights 
and nobles who were to perform this service, seemed very great 
when collected together for that purpose ; for every crusader 
who possessed a tower, aud led six lances, would have thought 
himself abridged of his dignity if he had not been called to 
acknowledge the Grecian Emperor, and hold the lands he 
should conquer of his throne, as well as Godfrey of Bouillon, or 
Hugh the Great, Count of Vermandois. And yet, with strange 
inconsistency, though they pressed to fulfil the homage, as that 
which was paid by greater persons than themselves, they seemed, 
at the very same time, desirous to find some mode of intimating 
that the homage which they rendered they felt as an idle deg- 
radation, and in fact held the whole show as a mere piece of 
mockery. 

The order of the procession had been thus settled : — The 
Crusaders, or, as the Grecians called them, the Counts , — that 
being the most common title among them, — were to advance 
from the left of their body, and passing the Emperor one by 
one, were apprised, that, in passing, each was to render to him, 
in as few words as possible, the homage which had been pre- 
viously agreed on. Godfrey of Bouillon, his brother Baldwin, 
Bohemond of Antioch, and several other crusaders of eminence, 
were the first to perform the ceremony, alighting when their 
own part was performed, and remaining in attendance by the 

* Note C. Labarum. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*39 

Emperor’s chair, to prevent, by the awe of their presence, any 
of their numerous associates from being guilty of petulance or 
presumption during the solemnity. Other crusaders of less 
degree retained their station near the Emperor, when they had 
once gained it, out of mere curiosity, or to show that they were 
as much at liberty to do so as the greater commanders who 
assumed that privilege. 

Thus two great bodies of troops, Grecian and European, 
paused at some distance from each other on the banks of the 
Bosphorus canal, differing in language, arms, and appearance. 
The small troops of horse which from time to time issued forth 
from these bodies, resembled the flashes of lightning passing 
from one thunder-cloud to another, which communicate to each 
other by such emissaries their overcharged contents. After 
some halt on the margin of the Bosphorus, the Franks who had 
performed homage, straggled irregularly forward to a quay on 
the shore, where innumerable galleys and smaller vessels, pro- 
vided for the purpose, lay with sails and oars prepared to waft 
the warlike pilgrims across the passage, and place them on that 
Asia which they longed so passionately to visit, and from which 
but few of them were likely to return. The gay appearance 
of the vessels which were to receive them, the readiness with 
which they were supplied with refreshments, the narrowness of 
the strait they had to cross, the near approach of that active 
service which they had vowed and longed to discharge, put the 
warriors into gay spirits, and songs and music bore chorus to 
the departing oars. 

While such was the temper of the crusaders, the Grecian 
Emperor did his best through the .whole ceremonial to impress 
on the armed multitude the highest ideas of his own grandeur, 
and the importance of the occasion which had brought them 
together. This was readily admitted by the higher chiefs ; 
some because their vanity had been propitiated, — some because 
their avarice had been gratified, — some because their ambition 
had been inflamed, — and a few, a very few, because to remain 
friends with Alexius was the most probable means of advanc- 
ing the purposes of their expedition. Accordingly, the great 
lords, from these various motives, practised a humility which 
perhaps they were far from feeling, and carefully abstained 
from all which might seem like irreverence at the solemn fes- 
tival of the Grecians. But there were very many of a different 
temper. 

Of the great number of counts, lords, and knights, under 
whose variety of banners the crusaders were led to the walls of 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


J4° 

Constantinople, many were too insignificant to be bribed to this 
distasteful measure of homage ; and these, though they felt it 
dangerous to oppose resistance, yet mixed their submission with 
taunts, ridicule, and such contraventions of decorum, as plainly 
intimated that they entertained resentment and scorn at the 
step they were about to take, and esteemed it as proclaiming 
themselves vassals to a prince, heretic in his faith, limited in 
the exercise of his boasted power, their enemy when he dared to 
show himself such, and the friend of those only among their 
number who were able to compel him to be so ; and who, 
though to them an obsequious ally, was to the others, when 
occasion offered, an insidious and murderous enemy. 

The nobles of Frankish origin and descent were chiefly re- 
markable for their presumptuous contempt of every other nation 
engaged in the crusade, as well as for their dauntless bravery, 
and for the scorn with which they regarded the power and 
authority of the Greek empire. It was a common saying among 
them that if the skies should fall, the French crusaders alone 
were able to hold them up with their lances. The same bold 
and arrogant disposition showed itself in occasional quarrels 
with their unwilling hosts, in which the Greeks, notwithstanding 
all their art, were often worsted ; so that Alexius was deter- 
mined, at all events, to get rid of these intractable and fiery 
allies, by ferrying them over the Bosphorus with all manner of 
diligence. To do this with safety, he availed himself of the 
presence of the Count of Vermandois, Godfrey of Bouillon, and 
other chiefs of great influence, to keep in order the lesser Frank- 
ish knights, who were so numerous and unruly.* 

Struggling with his feelings of offended pride, tempered by 
a prudent degree of apprehension, the Emperor endeavored to 
receive with complacence a homage tendered in mockery. An 
incident shortly took place of a character highly descriptive of 
the nations brought together in so extraordinary a manner, and 
with such different feelings and sentiments. Several bands of 
French had passed, in a sort of procession, the throne of the 
Emperor, and rendered, with some appearance of gravity, the 
usual homage. On this occasion they bent their knees to 
Alexius, placed their hands within his, and in that posture 
paid the ceremonies of feudal fealty. But when it came to the 
turn of Bohemond of Antioch, already mentioned, to render 
this fealty, the Emperor, desirous to show every species of 
honor to this wily person, his former enemv and now anpar- 


* See Mills, vol. i. chap. 3. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


141 


ently his ally, advanced two or three paces towards the sea* 
side, where the boats lay as if in readiness for his use. 

The distance to which the Emperor moved was very small, 
and it was assumed as a piece of deference to Bohemond ; but 
it became the means of exposing Alexius himself to a cutting 
affront, which his guards and subjects felt deeply, as an inten- 
tional humiliation. A half-score of horsemen, attendants of 
the Frankish Count who was the next to perform the homage, 
with their lord at their head, set off at full gallop from the right 
flank of the French squadrons, and arriving before the throne, 
which was yet empty, they at once halted. The rider at the 
head of the band was a strong Herculean figure, with a decided 
and stern countenance, though extremely handsome, looking 
out from thick black curls. His head was surmounted with a 
barret cap, while his hands, limbs, and feet, were covered with 
garments of chamois leather, over which he in general wore 
the ponderous and complete armor of his country. This, 
however, he had laid aside for personal convenience, though in 
doing so he evinced a total neglect of the ceremonial which 
marked so important a meeting. He waited not a moment for 
the Emperor’s return, nor regarded the impropriety of obliging 
Alexius to hurry his steps back to his throne, but sprang from 
his gigantic horse, and threw the reins loose, which were in- 
stantly seized by one of the attendant pages. Without a 
moment’s hesitation the Frank seated himself in the vacant 
throne of the Emperor, and extending his half-armed and 
robust figure on the golden cushions which were destined for 
Alexius, he indolently began to caress a large wolf-hound which 
had followed him, and which, feeling itself as much at ease as 
its master, reposed its grim form on the carpets of silk and 
gold damask, which tapestried the imperial footstool. The 
very hound stretched itself with a bold, ferocious insolence, and 
seemed to regard no one with respect, save the stern knight 
whom it called master. 

The Emperor, turning back from the short space which, as a 
special mark of favor, he had accompanied Bohemond, beheld 
with astonishment his seat occupied by this insolent Frank. 
The bands of half-savage Varangians who were stationed 
around, would not have hesitated an instant in avenging the 
insult, by prostrating the violator of their master’s throne even 
in this act of his contempt, had they not been restrained by 
Achilles Tatius and other officers, who were uncertain what the 
Emperor would do, and somewhat timorous of taking a reso- 
lution for themselves. 


142 


COUNT ROBERT OF FARTS. 


Meanwhile, the unceremonious knight spoke aloud, in a 
speech which, though provincial, might be understood by all 
to whom the French language was known, while even those 
who understood it not gathered its interpretation from his tone 
and manner. “ What churl is this,” he said, “ who has re- 
mained sitting stationary like a block of wood, or the fragment 
of a rock, when so many noble knights, the flower of chivalry 
and muster of gallantry, stand uncovered around, among the 
thrice conquered Varangians ?” 

A deep, clear accent replied, as if from the bottom of the 
earth, so like it was to the accents of some being from the other, 
world, — “ If the Normans desire battle of the Varangians, they 
will meet them in the lists man to man, without the poor boast 
of insulting the Emperor of Greece, who is well known to fight 
only by the battle-axes of his guard.” 

The astonishment was so great when this answer was heard, 
as to affect even the knight, whose insult upon the Emperor 
had occasioned it ; and amid the efforts of Achilles to retain 
his soldiers within the bounds of subordination and silence, a 
loud murmur seemed to intimate that they would not long 
remain so. Bohemond returned through the press with a 
celerity which did not so well suit the dignity of Alexius, and 
catching the crusader by the arm, he, something between fair 
means and a gentle degree of force, obliged him to leave the 
chair of the Emperor in which he had placed himself so boldly. 

“ How is it,” said Bohemond, “ noble Count of Paris ? Is 
there one of this great assembly who can see with patience, 
that your name, so widely renowed for valor, is now to be quoted 
in an idle brawl with hirelings, whose utmost boast it is to bear 
a mercenary battle-axe in the ranks of the Emperor’s guards ? 
For shame — for shame — do not, for the discredit of Norman 
chivalry, let it be so ! ” 

“ I know not,” said the crusader, rising reluctantly — “ I am 
not nice in choosing the degree of my adversary, when he bears 
himself like one who is willing and forward in battle. I am 
good-natured, I tell thee, Count Bohemond ; and Turk or Tar- 
tar, or wandering Anglo-Saxon, who only escapes from the chain 
of the Normans to become the slave of the Greek, is equally 
welcome to whet his blade clean against my armor, if he desires 
to achieve such an honorable office.” 

The Emperor had heard what passed — had heard it with 
indignation, mixed with fear ; for he imagined the whole scheme 
of his policy was about to be overturned at once by a premed- 
itated plan of personal affront, and probably an assault upon 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


M2 

his person. He was about to call to arms, when, casting his 
eyes on the right flank of the crusaders, he saw that all re- 
mained quiet after the Frank Baron had transferred himself 
from thence. He therefore instantly resolved to let the insult 
pass, as one of the rough pleasantries of the Franks, since the 
advance of more troops did not give any symptom of an actual 
onset. 

Resolving on his line of conduct with the quickness of 
thought, he glided back to his canopy, and stood beside his 
throne, of which, however, he chose not instantly to take pos- 
session, lest he should give the insolent stranger some ground 
for renewing and persisting in a competition for it. 

“What bold Vavasour is this,” said he to Count Baldwin, 
“ whom, as is apparent from his dignity, I ought to have re- 
ceived seated upon my throne, and who thinks proper thus to 
vindicate his rank ? ” 

“ He is reckoned one of the bravest men in our host,” an- 
swered Baldwin, “ though the brave are as numerous there as the 
sands of the sea. He will himself tell you his name and rank.” 

Alexius looked at the Vavasour. He saw nothing in his large, 
well-formed features, lighted by a wild touch of enthusiasm 
which spoke in his quick eye, that intimated premeditated in- 
sult, and was induced to suppose that what had occurred, so 
contrary to the form and ceremonial of the Grecian court, was 
neither an intentional affront nor designed as the means of 
introducing a quarrel. He therefore spoke with comparative 
ease, when he addressed the stranger thus : — “ We know not 
by what dignified name to salute you ; but we are aware, from 
Count Baldwin’s information, that we are honored in having 
in our presence one of the bravest knights whom a sense of the 
wrongs done to the Holy Land has brought thus far on his way 
to Palestine to free it from its bondage.” 

“If you mean to ask my name,” answered the European 
knight, “ any one of these pilgrims can readily satisfy you, and 
more gracefully than I can myself ; since we use to say in our 
country, that many a fierce quarrel is prevented from being 
fought out by an untimely disclosure of names, when men, who 
tnight have fought with the fear of God before their eyes, must 
when their names are manifested, recognize each other as spir- 
itual allies, by baptism, gossipred, or some such irresistible 
bond of friendship ; whereas, had they fought first and told 
Iheir names afterwards, they could have had some assurance of 
each other’s valor, and have been able to view their relationship, 
as an honor to both.” 


144 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ Still,” said the Emperor, “ methinks I would know if you, 
who, in this extraordinary press of knights, seem to assert a 
precedence to yourself, claim the dignity due to a king or 
prince ? ” 

“ How speak you that ? ” said the Frank, with a brow some* 
what overclouded ; do you feel that I have not left you unjos- 
tled by my advance to these squadrons of yours ? ” 

Alexius hastened to answer that he felt no particular desire 
to connect the Count with an affront or offence ; observing, 
that in the extreme necessity of the Empire, it was no time for 
him, who was at the helm, to engage in idle or unnecessary 
quarrels. 

The Frankish knight heard him, and answered dryly — 
tl Since such are your sentiments, I wonder that you have ever 
resided long enough within the hearing of the French language 
to learn to speak it as you do. I would have thought some of 
the sentiments of the chivalry of the nation, since you are 
neither a monk nor a woman, would at the same time with 
the words of the dialect, have found their way into your 
heart.” 

“ Hush, Sir Count,” said Bohemond, who remained by the 
Emperor to avert the threatening quarrel. “ It is surely requi- 
site to answer the Emperor with civility ; and those who are 
impatient for warfare will have infidels enough to wage it with. 
He only demanded your name and lineage, which you of all 
men can have least objection to disclose.” 

“ I know not if it will interest this prince, or Emperor as 
you term him,” answered the Frank Count ; “but all the account 
I can give of myself is this : — In the midst of one of the vast 
forests which occupy the centre of France, my native country, 
there stands a chapel, sunk so low into the ground, that it 
seems as if it were become decrepit by its own great age. The 
image of the Holy Virgin who presides over its altar, is called 
by all men our Lady of the Broken Lances, and is accounted 
through the whole kingdom the most celebrated for military 
adventures. Four beaten roads, each leading from an opposite 
point in the compass, meet before the principal door of the 
chapel ; and ever and anon, as a good knight arrives at this 
place, he passes in to the performance of his devotions in the 
chapel, having first sounded his horn three times, till ash and 
oak tree quiver and ring. Having then kneeled down to his 
devotions, he seldom arises from the mass of Her of the Broken 
Lances, but there is attending on his leisure some adventurous 
knight ready to satisfy the new comer’s desire of battle. This 


COUNT ROBERT OF FA RIF. 


*45 

station have I held for a month and more against all comers, 
and all gave me fair thanks for the knightly manner of quitting 
myself towards them, except one, who had the evil hap to fall 
from his horse, and did break his neck ; and another, who was 
struck through the body, so that the lance came out behind 
his back about a cloth-yard, all dripping with blood. Allowing 
for such accidents, which cannot be easily avoided, my oppo- 
nents parted with me with fair acknowledgment of the grace I 
had done them.” 

“ I conceive, Sir Knight,” said the Emperor, “ that a form 
like yours, animated by the courage you display, is likely to 
find few equals even among your adventurous countrymen ; far 
less among men who are taught that to cast away their lives in 
a senseless quarrel among themselves, is to throw away, like a 
boy, the gift of Providence.” 

<c You are welcome to your opinion,” said the Frank, some- 
what contemptuously; “yet I assure you, if you doubt that 
our gallant strife was unmixed with sullenness and anger, and 
that we hunt not the hart or the boar with merrier hearts in the 
evening, than we discharge our task of chivalry by the morn 
had arisen, before the portal of the old chapel, you do us foul 
injustice.” 

“ With the Turks you will not enjoy this amiable exchange 
of courtesies,” answered Alexius. “ Wherefore I would advise 
you neither to stray far into the van nor into the rear, but to 
abide by the standard where the best infidels make their efforts, 
and the best knights are required to repel them.” 

“ By our Lady of the Broken Lances,” said the Crusader, 
“ I would not that the Turks were more courteous than they 
are Christian, and am well pleased that unbeliever and heathen 
hound are a proper description for the best of them, as being 
traitor alike to their God and to the laws of Chivalry ; and 
devoutly do I trust that I shall meet with them in the front 
rank of our army, beside our standard, or elsewhere, and have 
an open field to do my devoir against them, both as the enemies 
of Our Lady and the holy saints, and as, by their evil customs, 
more expressly my own. Meanwhile you have time to seat 
yourself and receive my homage, and I will be bound to you 
for despatching this foolish ceremony with as little waste and 
delay of time as the occasion will permit.” 

The Emperor hastily seated himself, and received into his 
the sinewy hands of the Crusader, who made the acknowledg- 
ment of his homage, and was then guided off by Count Baldwin, 
who walked with the stranger to the ships, and then, apparently 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


146 

well pleased at seeing him in the course of going on board, re> 
turned back to the side of the Emperor. 

“ What is the name,” said the Emperor, “ of that singular 
and assuming man ? ” 

“ It is Robert, Count of Paris,” answered Baldwin, “ ac- 
counted one of the bravest peers who stand around the throne 
of France.” 

After a moment’s recollection, Alexius Comnenus issued 
orders that the ceremonial of the day should be discontinued, 
afraid, perhaps, lest the rough and careless humor of the stran- 
gers should produce some new quarrel. The crusaders were 
led, nothing loth, back to palaces in which they had already 
been hospitably received, and readily resumed the interrupted 
feast, from which they had been called to pay their homage. 
The trumpets of the various leaders blew the recall of the few 
troops of an ordinary character who were attendant, together 
with the host of knights and leaders, who, pleased with the in- 
dulgences provided for them, and obscurely foreseeing that the 
passage of the Bosphorus would be the commencement of their 
actual suffering, rejoiced in being called to the hither side. 

It was not probably intended ; but the hero, as he might be 
styled, of the tumultuous day, Count Robert of Paris, who was 
already on his road to embarkation on the strait, was disturbed 
in his purpose by the sound of recall which was echoed around ; 
nor could Bohemond, Godfrey, or any who took upon him to 
explain the signal, alter his resolution of returning to Constan- 
tinople. He laughed to scorn the threatened displeasure of 
the Emperor, and seemed to think there would be a peculiar 
pleasure in braving Alexius at his own board, or, at least, that 
nothing could be more indifferent than whether he gave offence 
or not. 

To Godfrey of Bouillon, to whom he showed some respect, 
he was still far from paying defence ; and that sagacious prince, 
having used every argument which might shake his purpose of 
returning to the imperial city, to the very point of making it a 
quarrel with him in person, at length abandoned him to his own 
discretion, and pointed him out to the Count of Thoulouse, as 
he passed, as a wild knight-errant, incapable of being influenced 
by anything save his own wayward fancy. “ He brings not five 
hundred men to the crusade,” said Godfrey; “and I dare be 
sworn, that even in this, the very outset of the undertaking, he 
knows not where these five hundred men are, and how their 
wants are provided for. There is an eternal trumpet in his ear 
sounding to assault, nor has he room or time to hear a milder 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


'47 

or more rational signal. See how he strolls along yonder, the 
very emblem of an idle schoolboy, broke out of the school- 
bounds upon a holiday, half animated by curiosity and half by 
love of mischief.” 

“ And,” said Raymond, Count of Thoulouse, “ with resolution 
sufficient to support the desperate purpose of the whole army 
of devoted crusaders. And yet so passionate a Rodomont is 
Count Robert, that he would rather risk the success of the whole 
expedition, than omit an opportunity of meeting a worthy an 
tagonist en champ-clos, or lose, as he terms it, a chance of 
worshipping Our Lady of the Broken Lances.* Who are yon 
with whom he has now met, and who are apparently walking, 
or rather strolling, in the same way with him, back to Constan- 
tinople ? ” 

“An armed knight, brilliantly equipped — yet of something 
less than knightly stature,” answered Godfrey. “ It is, I sup* 
pose, the celebrated lady who won Robert’s heart in the lists 
of battle, by bravery and valor equal to his own ; and the pil- 
grim form in the long vestments may be their daughter or 
niece.” 

“A singular spectacle, worthy Knight,” said the Count ot 
Thoulouse, “do our days present to us, to which we have had 
nothing similar since Gaita,f wife of Robert Guiscard, first took 
upon her to distinguish herself by manly deeds of emprise, 
and rival her husband, as well in the front of battle as at the 
dancing-room or banquet.” 

“ Such is the custom of this pair, most noble knight,” 
answered another Crusader, who had joined them, “ and Heaven 
pity the poor man who has no power to keep domestic peace 
by an appeal to the stronger hand ! ” 

“ Well ! ” replied Raymond, “ if it be rather a mortifying 
reflection that the lady of our love is far past the bloom of youth, 
it is a consolation that she is too old-fashioned to beat us, when 
we return back with no more of youth or manhood than a lonj 
crusade has left. But come, follow on the road to Constan 
tinople, and in the rear of this most doughty knight.” 


* See note E, Lalain, p. 390. 


t Note D. Gaita, the Amazon. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


>43 


CHAPTER TENTH. 


Those were wild times — the antipodes of ours : 

Ladies were there, who oftener saw themselves 
In the broad lustre of a foeman’s shield 
Than in a mirror, and who rather sought 
To match themselves in battle, than in dalliance 
To meet a lover’s onset. — But though Nature 
Was outraged thus, she was not overcome. 

Feudal Times. 


Brenhilda, Countess of Paris, was one of those stalwart 
dames who willingly hazarded themselves in the front of battle, 
which, during the first crusade, was as common as it was pos- 
sible for a very unnatural custom to be, and, in fact, gave the 
real instances of the Marphisas and Bradamantes, whom the 
writers of romance delighted to paint, assigning them some- 
times the advantage of invulnerable armor, or a spear whose 
thrust did not admit of being resisted, in order to soften the 
improbability of the weaker sex being frequently victorious 
over the male part of the creation. 

But the spell of Brenhilda was of a more simple nature, and 
rested chiefly in her great beauty. 

From a girl she despised the pursuits of her sex ; and they 
who ventured to become suitors for the hand of the young Lady 
of Aspramonte, to which warlike fief she had succeeded, and 
which perhaps encouraged her in her fancy, received for an- 
swer, that they must first merit it by their good behavior in the 
lists. The father of Brenhilda was dead ; her mother was of a 
gentle temper, and easily kept under management by the young 
lady herself. 

Brenhilda’s numerous suitors readily agreed to terms which 
were too much according to the manners of the age to be dis- 
puted. A tournament was held at the Castle of Aspramonte, 
in which one half of the gallant assembly rolled headlong before 
their successful rivals, and withdrew from the lists mortified 
and disappointed. The successful party among the suitors 
were expected to be summoned to joust among themselves. 
But they were surprised at being made acquainted with the 
lady’s further will. She aspired to wear armor herself, to wield 
a lance, and back a steed, and prayed the knights that they 
would permit a lady, whom they professed to honor so highly, 
to mingle in their games of chivalry. The young knights 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


149 

courteously received their young mistress in the lists, and smiled 
at the idea of her holding ihem triumphantly against so many 
gallant champions of the other sex. But the vassals and old 
servants of the Count, her father, smiled to each other, and 
intimated a different result than the gallants anticipated. The 
knights who encountered the fair Brenhilda were one by one 
stretched on the sand ; nor was it to be denied, that the situation 
of tilting with one of the handsomest women of the time was 
an extremely embarrassing one. Each youth was bent to with' 
hold his charge in full volly, to cause his steed to swerve at the 
full shock, or in some other way to flinch from doing the utmost 
which was necessary to gain the victory, lest, in so gaining it, 
he might cause irreparable injury to the beautiful opponent he 
tilted with. But the Lady of Aspramonte was not one who 
could be conquered by less than the exertion of the whole 
strength and talents of the victor. The defeated suitors de- 
parted from the lists the more mortified at their discomfiture, 
because Robert of Paris arrived at sunset, and, understanding 
w'hat was going forward, sent his name to the barriers, as that 
of a knight who would willingly forego the reward of the tour- 
nament, in case he had the fortune to gain it, declaring, that 
neither lands nor ladies’ charms were what he came thither to 
seek. Brenhilda, piqued and mortified, chose a new lance, 
mounted her best steed, and advanced into the lists as one 
determined to avenge upon the new assailant’s brow the slight 
of her charms which he seemed to express. But whether her 
displeasure had somewhat interfered with her usual skill, or 
whether she had, like others of her sex, felt a partiality towards 
one whose heart was not particularly set upon gaining hers — or 
whether, as is often said on such occasions, her fated hour was 
come, so it was that Count Robert tilted with his usual address 
and good fortune. Brenhilda of Aspramonte was unhorsed and 
unhelmed, and stretched on the earth, and the beautiful face, 
which faded from very red to deadly pale before the eyes of the 
victor, produced its natural effect in raising the value of his con- 
quest. He would, in conformity with his resolution, have left 
the castle after having mortified the vanity of the lady ; but her 
mother opportunely interposed ; and when she had satisfied her- 
self that no serious injury had been sustained by the young 
heiress, she returned her thanks to the stranger knight who had 
taught her daughter a lesson, which, she trusted, she would not 
easily forget. Thus tempted to do what he secretly wished, 
Count Robert gave ear to those sentiments which naturally 
Whispered to him to be in no hurry to withdraw. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


I 5° 

He was of the blood of Charlemagne, and, what was still of 
more consequence in the young lady’s eyes, one of the most 
renowned of Norman knights in that jousting day. After a 
residence of ten days in the castle of Aspramonte, the bride 
and bridegroom set out, for such was Count Robert’s will, with 
a competent train, to Our Lady of the Broken Lances, where it 
pleased him to be wedded. Two knights, who were waiting 
to do battle, as was the custom of the place, were rather disap- 
pointed at the nature of the cavalcade, which seemed to inter- 
rupt their purpose. But greatly were they surprised when they 
received a cartel from the betrothed couple, offering to substi- 
tute their own persons in the room of other antagonists, and 
congratulating themselves in commencing their married life in 
a manner so consistent with that which they had hitherto led. 
They were victorious as usual ; and the only persons having 
occasion to rue the complaisance of the Count and his bride, 
were the two strangers, one of whom broke an arm in the ren- 
contre, and the other dislocated a collar-bone. 

Count Robert’s course of knight-errantry did not seem to 
be in the least intermitted by his marriage ; on the contrary, 
when he was called upon to support his renown, his wife was 
often known also in military exploits, nor was she inferior to 
him in thirst after fame. They both assumed the cross at the 
same time, that being then the predominating folly in Europe. 

The Countess Brenhilda was now above six-and-twenty 
years old, with as much beauty as can well fall to the share of 
an Amazon. A figure of the largest feminine size was sur- 
mounted by a noble countenance, to which even repeated war- 
like toils had not given more than a sunny hue, relieved by the 
dazzling whiteness of such parts of her face as were not usually 
displayed. 

As Alexius gave orders that his retinue should return to 
Constantinople, he spoke in private to the Follower, Achilles 
Tatius. The Satrap answered with a submissive bend of the 
head, and separated with a few attendants from the main body 
of the Emperor’s train. The principal road to the city was, of 
course, filled with the troops, and with the numerous crowds of 
spectators, all of whom were inconvenienced in some degree by 
the dust and heat of the weather. 

Count Robert of Paris had embarked his horses on board 
of ship, and all his retinue, except an old squire or valet of his 
own, and an attendant of his wife. He felt himself more in- 
commoded in this crowd than he desired, especially as his wife 
shared it with him, and began to look among the scattered 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


15 * 

trees which fringed the shores, down almost to the tide-mark, 
to see if he could discern any by-path which might carry them 
more circuitously, but more pleasantly, to the city, and afford 
them at the same time, what was their principal object in the 
East, strange sights, or adventures of chivalry. A broad and 
beaten path seemed to promise them all the enjoyment which 
shade could give in a warm climate. The ground through 
which it wound its way was beautifully broken by the appear- 
ance of temples, churches, and kiosks, and here and there a 
fountain distributed its silver produce, like a benevolent indi- 
vidual, who, self-denying to himself, is liberal to all others who 
are in necessity. The distant sound of the martial music stil) 
regaled their way ; and, at the same time, as it detained the 
populace on the high-road, prevented the strangers from becom- 
ing incommoded with fellow-travellers. 

Rejoicing in the abated heat of the day — wondering, at the 
same time, at the various kinds of architecture, the strange 
features of the landscape, or accidental touches of manners, 
exhibited by those who met or passed them upon their journey, 
they strolled easily onwards. One figure particularly caught 
the attention of the Countess Brenhilda. This was an old man 
of great stature, engaged, apparently, so deeply with the roll of 
parchment which he held in his hand, that he paid no atten- 
tion to the objects which were passing around him. Deep 
thought appeared to reign on his brow, and his eye was of that 
piercing kind which seems designed to search and winnow the 
frivolous from the edifying part of human discussion, and limit 
its inquiry to the last. Raising his eyes slowly from the parch- 
ment on which he had been gazing, the look of Agelastes — for 
it was the sage himself — encountered those of Count Robert 
and his lady, and addressing them with the kindly epithet of 
“ my children,” he asked if they had missed their road, or 
whether there was anything in which he could do them any 
pleasure. 

“ We are strangers, father,” was the answer, “ from a dis- 
tant country, and belonging to the army which has passed hither 
upon pilgrimage ; one object brings us here in common, we 
hope, with all that host. We desire to pay our devotions where 
the great ransom was paid for us, and to free, by our good 
swords, enslaved Palestine, from the usurpation and tyranny of 
the infidel. When we have said this, we have announced our 
highest human motive. Yet Robert of Paris and his Countess 
would not willingly set their foot on a land, save what should 
resound its echo. They have not been accustomed to move in 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


* 5 2 

silence upon the face of the earth, and they would purchase an 
eternal life of fame, though it were at theprice of mortal ex- 
istence.” 

“ You seek, then, to barter safety for fame,” said Agelastes, 
“ though you may, perchance, throw death into the scale by 
which you hope to gain it ? ” 

“ Assuredly,” said Count Robert ; “ nor is there one wear- 
ing such a belt as this, to whom such a thought is stranger.” 

“ And as I understand,” said Agelastes, “your lady shares 
with your honorable self in these valorous resolutions ? — Can 
this be ? ” 

“ You may undervalue my female courage, father, if such is 
your will,” said the Countess ; “ but I speak in presence of a 
witness who can attest the truth, when I say that a man of half 
your years had not doubted the truth with impunity.” 

“ Nay, Heaven protect me from the lightning of your eyes,” 
said Agelastes, “ whether in anger or in scorn. I bear an aegis 
about myself against what I should else have feared. But age, 
with its incapacities, brings also its apologies. Perhaps, in- 
deed, it is one like me whom you seek to find, and in that case 
I should be happy to render to you such services as it is my 
duty to offer to all worthy knights.” 

“ I have already said,” replied Count Robert, “ that after 
the accomplishment of my vow” — he looked upwards and 
crossed himself — “ there is nothing on earth to which I am more 
bound than to celebrate my name in arms as becomes a valiant 
cavalier. When men die obscurely they die forever. Had my 
ancestor Charles never left the paltry banks of the Saale, he 
had not now been much better known than any vine-dresser 
who wielded his pruning-hook in the same territories. But he 
bore him like a brave man, and his name is deathless in the 
memory of the worthy.” 

“ Young man,” said the old Grecian, “ although it is but sel- 
dom that such as you, whom I was made to serve and to value, 
visit this country, it is not the less true that I am well qualified 
to serve you in the matter which you have so much at heart. 
My acquaintance with nature has been so perfect and so long, 
that, during its continuance, she has disappeared, and another 
world has been spread before me, in which she has but little to 
do. Thus the curious stores which I have assembled are be- 
yond the researches of other men, and not to be laid before 
those whose deeds of valor are to be bounded by the ordinary 
probabilities of everyday nature. No romancer of your romantic 
country ever devised such extraordinary adventures out of his 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*53 


own imagination, and to feed the idle wonder of those who sat 
listening around, as those which I know, not of idle invention, 
but of real positive existence, with the means of achieving and 
accomplishing the conditions of each adventure.” 

“ If such be your real profession,” said the French Count, 
“ you have met one of those whom you chiefly search for ; nor 
will my Countess and I stir farther upon our road until you 
have pointed out to us some one of those adventures which it is 
the business of errant-knights to be industrious in seeking out.” 

So saying, he sat down by the side of the old man ; and his 
lady, with a degree of reverence which had something in it al- 
most diverting, followed his example. 

“ We have fallen right, Brenhilda,” said Count Robert ; 
“ our guardian angel has watched his charge carefully. Here 
have we come among an ignorant set of pedants, chattering 
their absurd language, and holding more important the least 
look that a cowardly Emperor can give, than the best blow 
that a good knight can deal. Believe me, I was well-nigh 
thinking that we had done ill to take the cross — God forgive 
such an impious doubt ! Yet here, when we were even de- 
spairing to find the road to fame, we have met with one of those 
excellent men whom the knights of yore were wont to find sit- 
ting by springs, by crosses, and by altars, ready to direct the 
wandering knight where fame was to be found. Disturb him 
not, my Brenhilda,” said the Count, “ but let him recall to him- 
self his stories of the ancient time, and thou shalt see he will 
enrich us with the treasures of his information.” 

“ If,” replied Agelastes, after some pause, “ I have waited 
for a longer term than human life is granted to most men, I 
shall still be overpaid by dedicating what remains of existence 
to the service of a pair so devoted to chivalry. What first oc- 
curs to me is a story of our Greek country, so famous in adven- 
tures, and which I shall briefly detail to you : — 

“Afar hence, in our renowned Grecian Archipelago, amid 
storms and whirlpools, rocks which, changing their character, 
appear to precipitate themselves against each other, and billows 
that are never in a pacific state, lies the rich island of Zuli- 
chium, inhabited, notwithstanding its wealth, by a very few 
natives, who live only upon the sea-coast. The inland part of 
the island is one immense mountain, or pile of mountains, 
amongst which, those who dare approach near enough, may, 
we are assured, discern the moss-grown and antiquated towers 
and pinnacles of a stately but ruinous castle, the habitation of 
the sovereign of the island, in which she has been enchanted 
for a great many years. 


*54 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ A bold knight, who came upon a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, 
made a vow to deliver this unhappy victim of pain and sorcery; 
feeling, with justice, vehemently offended, that the fiends of 
darkness should exercise any authority near the Holy Land, 
which might be termed the very fountain of light. Two of the 
oldest inhabitants of the island undertook to guide him as near 
to the main gate as they durst, nor did they approach it more 
closely than the length of a bow-shot. Here, then, abandoned 
to himself, the brave Frank set forth upon his enterprise, with 
a stout heart, and Heaven alone to friend. The fabric which 
he approached showed, by its gigantic size, and splendor of 
outline, the power and wealth of the potentate who had erected 
it. The brazen gates unfolded themselves as if with hope and 
pleasure ; and aerial voices swept around the spires and tur- 
rets, congratulating the genius of the place, it might be, upon 
the expected approach of its deliverer. 

“ The knight passed on, not unmoved with wonder, though 
untainted by fear; and the Gothic splendors which he saw 
were of a kind highly to exalt his idea of the beauty of the 
mistress for whom a prison-house had been so richly decorated. 
Guards there were in Eastern dress and arms, upon bulwark 
and buttress, in readiness, it appeared, to bend their bows ; 
but the warriors were motionless and silent, and took no more 
notice of the armed step of the knight than if a monk or 
hermit had approached their guarded post. They were living, 
and yet, as to all power and sense, they might be considered 
among the dead. If there was truth in the old tradition, the 
sun had shone and the rain had fallen upon them for more 
than four hundred changing seasons, without their being sen- 
sible of the genial warmth of the one or the coldness of the 
other. Like the Israelites in the desert, their shoes had not 
decayed, nor their vestments waxed old. As time left them, 
so and without alteration was he again to find them.” The 
philosopher began now to recall what he had heard of the 
cause of their enchantment. 

“ The sage to whom this potent charm is imputed, was one 
of the Magi who followed the tenets of Zoroaster. He had 
come to the court of this youthful Princess, who received him 
with every attention which gratified vanity could dictate, so 
that in a short time her awe of this grave personage was lost 
in the sense of ascendancy which her beauty gave her over him. 
It was no difficult matter — in fact it happens every day — for 
the beautiful woman to lull the wise man into what is not in 
aptly called a fool’s paradise. The sage was induced to attempt 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*55 


feats of youth which his years rendered ridiculous ; he could 
command the elements, but the common course of nature was 
beyond his power. When, therefore, he exerted his magic 
strength, the mountains bent and the seas receded ; but when 
the philosopher attempted to lead forth the Princess of Zuli- 
chium in the youthful dance, youths and maidens turned their 
heads aside lest they should make too manifest the ludicrous 
ideas with which they were impressed. 

“ Unhappily, as the aged, even the wisest of them, will for- 
get themselves, so the young naturally enter into an alliance to 
spy out, ridicule, and enjoy their foibles. Many were the 
glances which the Princess sent among her retinue, intimating 
the nature of the amusement which she received from the 
attentions of her formidable lover. In process of time she lost 
her caution, and a glance was detected, expressing to the old 
man the ridicule and contempt in which he had been all 
along held by the object of his affections. Earth has no pas- 
sion so bitter as love converted to hatred ; and while the sage 
bitterly regretted what he had done, he did not the less resent 
the light-hearted folly of the Princess by whom he had been 
duped. 

“ If, however, he was angry, he possessed the art to conceal 
it. Not a word, not a look, expressed the bitter disappoint- 
ment which he had received. A shade of melancholy, or rather 
gloom, upon his brow alone intimated the coming storm. The 
Princess became somewhat alarmed ; she was besides extremely 
good-natured, nor had her intentions of leading the old man 
into what would render him ridiculous, been so accurately 
planned with malice prepense, as they were the effect of accb 
dent and chance. She saw the pain which he suffered, and 
thought to end it by going up to him, when about to retire, 
and kindly wishing him good-night. 

“ ‘You say well, daughter,’ said the sage, ‘good-night — but 
who, of the numbers who hear me, shall say good-morning ?’ 

“The speech drew little attention, although two or three 
persons to whom the character of the sage was known, fled 
from the island that very night, and by their report made 
known the circumstances attending the first infliction of this 
extraordinary spell on those who remained within the Castle. 
A sleep like that of death fell upon them, and was not removed. 
Most of the inhabitants left the island ; the few who remained 
were cautious how they approached the Castle, and watched 
until some bold adventurer should bring that happy awakening 
which the speech of the sorcerer seemed in some degree to 
intimate. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


T 5 6 

“ Never seemed there a fairer opportunity for that awaken- 
ing to take place than when the proud step of Artavan de 
Hautlieu was placed upon these enchanted courts. On the left 
lay the palace and donjon-keep ; but the right, more attractive, 
seemed to invite to the apartment of the women. At a side- 
door, reclined on a couch, two guards of the harem, with their 
naked swords grasped in their hands, and features fiendishly 
contorted between sleep and dissolution, seemed to menace 
death to any who should venture to approach. This threat 
deterred not Artavan de Hautlieu. He approached the en- 
trance, when the doors, like those of the great entrance to the 
Castle, made themselves instantly accessible to him. A guard- 
room of the same effeminate soldiers received him, nor could 
the strictest examination have discovered to him whether it 
was sleep or death which arrested the eyes that seemed to look 
upon and prohibit his advance. Unheeding the presence of 
these ghastly sentinels, Artavan pressed forward into an inner 
apartment, where female slaves of the most distinguished 
beauty were visible in the attitude of those who had already 
assumed their dress for the night. There was much in this 
scene which might have arrested so youn g a pilgrim as Artavan 
of Hautlieu ; but his heart was fixed on achieving the freedom 
of the beautiful Princess, nor did he suffer himself to be with- 
drawn from that object by any inferior consideration. He 
passed on, therefore, to a little ivory door, which, after a mo- 
ment’s pause, as if in maidenly hesitation, gave way like the 
rest, and yielded access to the sleeping apartment of the Prin- 
cess herself. A soft light, resembling that of evening, pene- 
trated into a chamber where everything seemed contrived to 
exalt the luxury of slumber. The heaps of cushions, which 
formed a stately bed, seemed rather to be touched than 
impressed by the form of a nymph of fifteen, the renowned 
Princess of Zulichium.” 

“ Without interrupting you, good father,” said the Countess 
Brenhilda, “ it seems to me that we can comprehend the pic- 
ture of a woman asleep without much dilating upon it, and that 
such a subject is little recommended either by our age or by 
yours.” 

“ Pardon me, noble lady,” answered Agelastas, “ the most 
approved part of my story has ever been this passage, and 
while I now suppress it in obedience to your command, bear 
notice, I pray you, that I sacrifice the most beautiful part of 
the tale.” 

“ Brenhilda,” added the Count, “ I am surprised you think 





4 








WOODSTOCK AGELASTES RECOUNTING HIS STORY 



COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


iS7 

of interrupting a story which has hitherto proceeded with so 
much fire ; the telling of a few words more or less will surely 
have a much greater influence upon the sense of the narrative, 
than such an addition can possibly possess over our sentiments 
of action.” 

“As you will,” said his lady, throwing herself carelessly 
back upon the seat; “but methinks the worthy father protracts 
this discourse till it becomes of a nature more trifling than 
interesting.” 

“ Brenhilda,” said the Count, “ this is the first time I have 
remarked in you a woman’s weakness.” 

“ I may as well say, Count Robert, that it is the first time,” 
answered Brenhilda, “ that you have shown to me the incon- 
stancy of your sex.” 

“ Gods and goddesses,” said the philosopher, “ was ever 
known a quarrel more absurdly founded ! The Countess is 
jealous of one whom her husband probably never will see, nor 
is there any prospect that the Princess of Zulichium will be 
hereafter better known to the modern world than if the curtain 
hung before her tomb.” 

“ Proceed,” said Count Robert of Paris ; “ if Sir Artavan 
of Hautlieu has not accomplished the enfranchisement of the 
Princess of Zulichium, I make a vow to Our Lady of the Broken 
Lances ” 

“ Remember,” said his lady, interfering, “ that you are 
already under a vow to free the Sepulchre of God ; and to 
that, methinks, all lighter engagements might give place.” 

“ Well, lady — well,” said Count Robert, but half satisfied 
with this interference, “ I will not engage myself, you may be 
assured, on any adventure which may claim precedence of the 
enterprise of the Holy Sepulchre, to which we are all bound.” 

“ Alas ! ” said Agelastes, “ the distance of Zulichium from 
the speediest route to the sepulchre is so small that ” 

“ Worthy father,” said the Countess, “ we will, if it pleases 
you, hear your tale to an end, and then determine what we will 
do. We Norman ladies, descendants of the old Germans, claim 
a voice with our lords in the council which precedes the battle ; 
nor has our assistance in the conflict been deemed altogether 
useless.” 

The tone in which this was spoken conveyed an awkward 
innuendo to the philosopher, who began to foresee that the 
guidance of the Norman knight would be more difficult than 
he had foreseen while his consort remained by his side. He 
took up, therefore, his oratory on somewhat a lower key than 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


* 5 * 

before, and avoided those warm descriptions which had give** 
such offence to the Countess Brenhilda. 

“ Sir Artavan de Hautlieu, says the story, considered in 
what way he should accost the sleeping damsel, when it 
occurred to him in what manner the charm would be most 
likely to be reversed. I am in your judgment, fair lady, if he 
judged wrong in resolving that the method of his address 
should be a kiss upon the lips.” The color of Brenhilda was 
somewhat heightened, but she did not deem the observation 
worthy of notice. 

“ Never had so innocent an action,” continued the philoso- 
pher, “an effect more horrible. The delightful light of a 
summer evening was instantly changed into a strange lurid hue, 
which, infected with sulphur, seemed to breathe suffocation 
through the apartment. The rich hangings, and splendid 
furniture of the chamber, the very walls themselves, were 
changed into huge stones tossed together at random, like the 
inside of a wild beast’s den, nor was the den without an inhab- 
itant. The beautiful and innocent lips to which Artavan de 
Hautlieu had approached his own, were now changed into the 
hideous and bizarre form and bestial aspect of a fiery dragon. 
A moment she hovered upon the wing, and it is said, had Sir 
Artavan found courage to repeat his salute three times, he 
would then have remained master of all the wealth, and of the 
disenchanted princess. But the opportunity was lost, and the 
dragon, or the creature who seemed such, sailed out at a side 
window upon its broad pennons, uttering loud wails of disap- 
pointment.” 

Here ended the story of Agelastes. “ The Princess,” he 
said, “ is still supposed to abide her doom in the Island of 
Zulichium, and several knights have undertaken the adventure ; 
but I know not whether it was the fear of saluting the sleeping 
maiden, or that of approaching the dragon into which she 
was transformed, but so it is, the spell remains unachieved. I 
know the way, and if you say the word, you may be to-morrow 
on the road to the castle of enchantment.” 

The Countess heard this proposal with the deepest anxiety, 
for she knew that she might, by opposition, determine her 
husband irrevocably upon following out the enterprise. She 
stood therefore with a timid and bashful look, strange in a person 
whose bearing was generally so dauntless, and prudently left it 
to the uninfluenced mind of Count Robert to form the resolu- 
tion which should best please him. 

“ Brenhilda,” he said, taking her hand, “ fame and honor 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*59 

are dear to thy husband as ever they were to knight who 
buckled a brand upon his side. Thou hast done, perhaps, I 
may say, for me, what I might in vain have looked for from 
ladies of thy condition ; and therefore thou mayst well expect 
a casting voice in such points of deliberation. — Why dost thou 
wander by the side of a foreign and unhealthy shore, instead of 
the banks of the lovely Seine ? — Why dost thou wear a dress 
unusual to thy sex ? — Why dost thou seek death, and think it 
little in comparison of shame ? — Why ? — but that the Count of 
Paris may have a bride worthy of him. Dost thou think that 
this affection is thrown away? No, by the saints! Thy 
knight repays it as he best ought, and sacrifices to thee every 
thought which thy affection may less than entirely approve ! ” 

Poor Brenhilda, confused as she was by the various emotions 
with which she was agitated, now in vain endeavored to main- 
tain the heroic deportment which her character as an Amazon 
required from her. She attempted to assume the proud and 
lofty look which was properly her own, but failing in the effort, 
she threw herself into the Count’s arms, hung round his neck, 
and wept like a village maiden, whose true love is pressed for 
the wars. Her husband, a little ashamed, while he was much 
moved by this burst of affection in one to whose character it 
seemed an unusual attribute, was, at the same time, pleased 
and proud that he could have awakened an affection so genuine 
and so gentle in a soul so high-spirited and so unbending. 

“ Not thus,” he said, “ my Brenhilda ! I would not have it 
thus, either for thine own sake or for mine. Do not let this 
wise old man suppose that thy heart is made of the malleable 
stuff which forms that of other maidens ; and apologize to him, 
as may well become thee, for having prevented my undertaking 
the adventure of Zulichium, which he recommends.” 

It was not easy for Brenhilda to recover herself, after having 
afforded so notable an instance how nature can vindicate her 
rights, with whatever rigor she may have been disciplined and 
tyrannized over. With a look of ineffable affection, she dis- 
joined herself from her husband, still keeping hold of his hand, 
and turning to the old man with a countenance in which the 
half-effaced tears were succeeded by smiles of pleasure and of 
modesty, she spoke to Agelastes as she would to a person whom 
she respected, and towards whom she had some offence to atone. 
“ Father,” she said, respectfully, “ be not angry with me that I 
should have been an obstacle to one of the best knights that 
ever spurred steed undertaking the enterprise of thine enchanted 
Princess ; but the truth is, that in our land, where knighthood 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


160 

and religion agree in permitting only one lady love, and one 
lady wife, we do not quite so willingly see our husbands run 
into danger — especially of that kind where lonely ladies are the 
parties relieved — and — and kisses are the ransom paid. I 
have as much confidence in my Robert’s fidelity, as a lady can 

have in a loving knight, but still ” 

“ Lovely lady,” said Agelastes, who, notwithstanding his 
highly artificial character, could not help being moved by the 
simple and sincere affection of the handsome young pair, “ you 
have done no evil. The state of the Princess is no worse than 
it was, and there cannot be a doubt that the knight fated to 
relieve her will appear at the destined period.” 

The countess smiled sadly, and shook her head. “ You do 
not know,” she said, “ how powerful is the aid of which I have 
unhappily deprived this unfortunate lady, by a jealousy which 
I now feel to have been alike paltry and unworthy ; and, such 
is my regret, that I could find in my heart to retract my oppo- 
sition to Count Robert’s undertaking this adventure.” She 
looked at her husband with some anxiety, as one that had 
made an offer she would not willingly see accepted, and did 
not recover her courage until he said, decidedly, “ Brenhilda, 
that may not be.” 

“ And why, then, may not Brenhilda herself take the adven- 
ture,” continued the Countess, “ since she can neither fear the 
charms of the Princess nor the terrors of the dragon ? ” 

“ Lady,” said Agelastes, “ the Princess must be awakened 
by the kiss of love, and not by that of friendship.” 

“ A sufficient reason,” said the Countess, smiling, “ why a 
lady may not wish her lord to go forth upon an adventure of 
which the conditions are so regulated.” - 

“ Noble minstrel, or herald, or by whatever name this coun- 
try calls you,” said Count Robert, “ accept a small remunera- 
tion for an hour pleasantly spent, though spent, unhappily, in 
vain. I should make some apology for the meanness of my 
offering, but French knights, you may have occasion to know, 
are more full of fame than of wealth.” 

“ Not for that, noble sir,” replied Agelastes, “would I refuse 
your munificence ; a besant from your worthy hand, or that of 
your noble-minded lady, were centupled in its value by the 
eminence of the persons from whom it came. I would hang it 
round my neck by a string of pearls, and when I came into the 
presence of knights and of ladies, I would proclaim that this 
addition to my achievement of armorial distinction was bestowed 
by the renowned Count Robert of Paris, and his unequalled 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


161 

lady.” The Knight and the Countess looked on each other, 
and the lady, taking from her finger a ring of pure gold, prayed 
the old man to accept of it, as a mark of her esteem and her 
husband’s. “ With one other condition,” said the philosopher, 
“ which I trust you will not find altogether unsatisfactory. I 
have, on the way to the city by the most pleasant road, a small 
kiosk, or hermitage, where I sometimes receive my friends, 
who, I venture to say, are among the most respectable person- 
ages of this empire. Two or three of these will probably 
honor my residence to-day, and partake of the provision it 
affords. Could I add to these the company of the noble Count 
and Countess of Paris, I should deem my poor habitation 
honored forever.” 

“How say you, my noble wife?” said the Count. “The 
company of a minstrel befits the highest birth, honors the highest 
rank, and adds to the greatest achievements ; and the invitation 
does us too much credit to be rejected.” 

“ It grows somewhat late,” said the Countess : “ but we came 
not here to shun a sinking sun or a darkening sky, and I feel 
it my duty, as well as my satisfaction, to place at the command 
of the good father every pleasure which it is in my power to 
offer to him, for having been the means of your neglecting his 
advice.” 

“ The path is so short,” said Agelastes, “ that we had better 
keep our present mode of travelling, if the lady should not want 
the assistance of horses.” 

“ No horses on my account,” said the Lady Brenhilda. “ My 
waiting woman, Agatha, has what necessaries I may require ; 
and, for the rest, no knight ever travelled so little embarrassed 
with baggage as my husband.” 

Agelastes, therefore, led the way through the deepening 
wood, which was freshened by the cooler breath of evening, and 
his guests accompanied him. 


CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

Without, a ruin — broken, tangled, cumbrous, 

Within, it was a little paradise, 

Where Taste had made her dwelling. Statuary, 

First-born of human art, moulded her images, 

And bade men mark and worship. 

Anonymous. 

The Count of Paris and his lady attended the old man, 
whose advanced age, his excellence in the use of the French 


162 


COl/NT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


language, which he spoke to admiration, — above all, his skill 
in applyirg it to poetical and romantic subjects, which was 
essential to what was then termed history and belles lettres, — ' 
drew from the noble hearers a degree of applause, which, as 
Agelastes had seldom been vain enough to consider as his due, 
so, on the part of the Knight of Paris and his lady, had it been 
but rarely conferred. 

They had walked for some time by a path which sometimes 
seemed to hide itself among the woods that came down to the 
shore of the Propontis, sometimes emerged from concealment, 
and skirted the cTpen margin of the strait, while, at every turn, 
it seemed guided by the desire to select a choice and contrast 
of beauty. Variety of scenes and manners enlivened, from their 
novelty, the landscape to the pilgrims. By the sea shore nymphs 
were seen dancing, and shepherds piping, or beating the tam- 
bourine to their steps, as represented in some groups of ancient 
statuary. The very faces had a singular resemblance to th^ 
antique. If old, their long robes, their attitudes, and magnifi- 
cent heads, presented the ideas which distinguish prophets and 
saints ; while, on the other hand, the features of the young re- 
called the expressive countenances of the heroes of antiquity, 
and the charms of those lovely females by whom their deeds 
were inspired. 

But the race of the Greeks was no longer to be seen, even 
in its native country, unmixed, or in absolute purity ; on the 
contrary, they saw groups of persons with features which argued 
a different descent. 

In a retiring bosom of the shore, which was traversed by 
the path, the rocks, receding from the beach, rounded off a 
spacious portion of level sand, and, in some degree, enclosed 
it. A party of heathen Scythians whom they beheld, presented 
the deformed features of the demons they were said to worship 
•-flat noses with expanded nostrils, which seemed to admit the 
sight to their very brain ; faces which extended rather in breadth 
than length, with strange unintellectual eyes placed in the ex- 
tremity ; figures short and dwarfish, yet garnished with legs and 
arms of astonishing sinewy strength, disproportioned to their 
bodies. As the travellers passed, the savages held a species of 
tournament, as the Count termed it. In this they exercised 
themselves by darting at each other long reeds, or canes, bal- 
anced for the purpose, which, in this rude sport, they threw with 
such force, as not unfrequently to strike each other from their 
steeds, and otherwise to cause serious damage. Some of the 
combatants being, for the time, out of the play, devoured with 


CO UNT ROBER T OF PARIS. 1 63 

greedy looks the beauty of the Countess, and eyed her in such 
a manner, that she said to Count Robert, — “ I have never 
known fear, my husband, nor is it for me to acknowledge it 
now ; but if disgust be an ingredient of it, those misformed 
brutes ere qualified to inspire it.” 

“ What, ho, Sir Knight ! ” exclaimed one of the infidels, 
“ your wife, or your lady love, has committed a fault against the 
privileges of the Imperial Scythians, and not small will be the 
penalty she has incurred. You may go your way as fast as you 
will out of this place, which is, for the present, our hippodrome, 
or atmeidan, call it which you will, as you prize the Roman or 
the Saracen language ; but for your wife, if the sacrament has 
united you, believe my word, that she parts not so soon or so 
easy.” 

“ Scoundrel heathen,” said the Christian Knight, “ does thou 
hold that language to a Peer of France ? ” 

Agelastes here interposed, and using the sounding language 
of a Grecian courtier, reminded the Scythians (mercenary sol- 
diers, as they seemed, of the empire), that all violence against 
the European pilgrims was, by the Imperial orders, strictly pro- 
hibited under pain of death. 

“ I know better,” said the exulting savage, shaking one or 
two javelins with broad steel heads, and wings of the eagle’s 
feather, which last were dabbled in blood. “ Ask the wings 
of my javelin,” he said, “ in whose heart’s blood these feathers 
have been dyed. They shall reply to you that if Alexius Com- 
nenus be the friend of the European pilgrims, it is only while 
he looks upon them ; and we are too exemplary soldiers to serve 
our Emperor otherwise than he wishes to be served.” 

“ Peace, Toxartis,” said the philosopher ; “ thou beliest 
thine Emperor,” 

“ Peace thou ! ” said Toxartis, “ or I will do a deed that 
misbecomes a soldier, and rid the world of a prating old man.” 

So saying, he put forth his hand to take hold of the Count- 
ess’s veil. With the readiness that frequent use had given 
to the warlike lady, she withdrew herself from the heathen’s 
grasp, and with her trenchant sword dealt him so sufficient a 
blow, that Toxartis lay lifeless on the plain. The Count leapt 
on the fallen leader’s steed, and crying his war-cry, “ Son of 
Charlemagne, to the rescue ! ” he rode amid the route of heathen 
cavaliers with a battle-axe, which he found at the saddlebow 
of the deceased chieftain, and wielding it with remorseless dex- 
terity, he 3oon slew or wounded, or compelled to flight, the 
objects of his resentment; nor was there any of them who abode 
an instant to support the boast which they had made. 


16.4 COUNT ROBERT OB PARTS. 

“ The despicable churls ! ” said the Countess to Agelastes *, 
u it irks me that a drop of such coward blood should stain the 
hands of a noble knight. They call their exercise a tourna- 
ment, although in their whole exertions every blow is aimed 
behind the back, and not one has the courage to throw his 
windlestraw while he perceives that of another pointed against 
himself.” 

“ Such is their custom,” said Agelastes ; “ not perhaps so 
much from cowardice as from habit, in exercising before his 
Imperial Majesty. I have seen that Toxartis literally turn his 
back upon the mark when he meant his blow in full career, and 
when in the act of galloping the farthest from his object, he 
pierced it through the very centre with a broad arrow.” 

“ A force of such soldiers,” said Count Robert, who had now 
rejoined his friends, “ could not, methinks, be very formidable, 
where there was but an ounce of genuine courage in the assail- 
ants.” 

“ Meantime, let us pass on to my kiosk,” said Agelastes, 
“ lest the fugitives find friends to encourage them in thoughts 
of revenge.” 

“ Such friends,” said Count Robert, “ methinks the insolent 
heathens ought not to find in any land which calls itself Chris- 
tian ; and if I survive the conquest of the Holy Sepulchre, I 
shall make it my first business to inquire by what right your 
Emperor retains in his service a band of Paynim and unman- 
nerly cut-throats, who dare offer injury upon the highway, which 
ought to be sacred to the peace of God and the king, and to 
noble ladies and inoffensive pilgrims. It is one of a list of 
many questions which, my vow accomplished, I will not fail to 
put to him ; ay, and expecting an answer, as they say, prompt 
and categorical.” 

“ You shall gain no answer from me, though,” said Agelastes 
to himself. “ Your demands, Sir Knight, are over-peremptory, 
and imposed under too rigid conditions, to be replied to by 
those who can evade them.” 

He changed the conversation accordingly with easy dexter- 
ity ; and they had not proceeded much further before they 
reached a spot, the natural beauties of which called forth the 
admiration of his foreign companions. A copious brook gushing 
out of the woodland descended to the sea with no small noise 
and tumult ; and, as if disdaining a quieter course, which it 
might have gained by a little circuit to the right, it took the 
readiest road to the ocean, plunging over the face of a lofty and 
Darren precipice which overhung the sea-shore, and from thence 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS \ 


165 

led its little tribute, with as much noise as if it had the stream 
of a full river to boast of, to the waters of the Hellespont. 

The rock, we have said, was bare, unless in so far as it was 
clothed with the foaming waters of the cataract ; but the banks 
on each side were covered with plane-trees, walnut-trees, cypres- 
ses, and other kinds of large timber proper to the East. The 
fall of water, always agreeable in a warm climate, and generally 
produced by artificial means, was here natural, and had been 
chosen, something like the Sibyl’s temple at Tivoli, for the seat 
of a goddess to whom the invention of Polytheism had assigned 
a sovereignty over the department around. The shrine was 
small and circular, like many of the lesser temples of the rustic 
deities, and enclosed by the wall of an outer court. After its 
desecration, it had probably been converted into a luxurious 
summer retreat by Agelastes, or some Epicurean philosopher. 
As the building, itself of a light, airy, and fantastic character, 
was dimly seen through the branches and foliage on the edge 
of the rock, so the mode by which it was accessible was not at 
first apparent amongst the mist of the cascade. A pathway, 
a good deal hidden by vegetation, ascended by a gentle acclivity, 
and, prolonged by the architect by means of a few broad and 
easy marble steps, making part of the original approach, con- 
ducted the passenger to a small but exquisitely lovely velvet 
lawn in front of the turret or temple we have described, the 
back part of which building overhung the cataract. 


CHAPTER TWELFTH. 


The parties met. The wily, wordy Greek, 

Weighing each word, and canvassing each syllable ; 
Evading, arguing, equivocating, 

And the stern Frank came with his two-hand sword, 
Watching to see which way the balance sways, 

That he may throw it in, and turn the scales. 

Palestine. 


At a signal made by Agelastes, the door of this romantic 
retreat was opened by Diogenes, the negro slave, to whom our 
readers have been already introduced ; nor did it escape the 
wily old man, that the Count and his lady testified some wonder 
at his form and lineaments, being the first African, perhaps, 
whom they had ever seen so closely. The philosopher lost nof 


i66 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


the opportunity of making an impression on their minds, by a 
display of the superiority of his knowledge. 

“ This poor being,” he observed, “ is of the race of Ham, 
the undutiful son of Noah ; for his transgressions against his 
parent he was banished to the sands of Africa, and was con- 
demned to be the father of a race doomed to be the slaves of 
the issue of his more dutiful brethren.” 

The knight and his lady gazed on the wonderful appearance 
before them, and did not, it may be believed, think of doubting 
the information which was so much of a piece with their prej- 
udices, while their opinion of their host was greatly augmented 
by the supposed extent of his knowledge. 

“ It gives pleasure to a man of humanity,” continued Age- 
lastes, “ when, in old age, or sickness, we must employ the ser- 
vices of others, which is at other times scarce lawful, to choose 
his assistants out of a race of beings, hewers of wood and drawers 
of water — from their birth upwards destined to slavery ; and to 
whom, therefore, by employing them as slaves, we render no 
injury, but carry into effect, in a slight degree, the intentions 
of the Great Being who made us all.” 

“ Are there many of a race,” said the Countess, “ so singu- 
larly unhappy in their destination ? I have hitherto thought 
the stories of black men as idle as those which minstrels tell 
of fairies and ghosts.” 

“ Do not believe so,” said the philosopher ; “ the race is 
numerous as the sands of the sea, neither are they altogether 
unhappy in discharging the duties which their fate has allot- 
ted them. Those who are of worse character suffer even in 
this life the penance due to their guilt; they become the slaves 
of the cruel and tyrannical, are beaten, starved, and mutilated. 
To those whose moral characters are better, better masters are 
provided, who share with their slaves, as with their children, 
food and raiment, and the other good things which they them- 
selves enjoy. To some, Heaven allots the favor of kings and 
of conquerors, and to a few, but those the chief favorites of 
the species, hath been assigned a place in the mansions of 
philosophy, where, by availing themselves of the lights which 
their masters can afford, they gain a prospect into that world 
which is the residence of true happiness.” 

“ Methinks I understand you,” replied the Countess, “ and 
if so, I ought rather to envy our sable friend here than to pity 
him, for having been allotted in the partition of his kind to the 
possession of his present master, from whom, doubtless, he has 
acquired the desirable knowledge which you mention.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


167 

“ He learns, at least,” said Agelastes, modestly, “ what I 
can teach, and, above all, to be contented with his situation. — 
Diogenes, my good child,” said he, changing his address to 
the slave, “ thou seest I have company — What does the poor 
hermit’s larder afford, with which he may regale his honored 
guests ? ” 

Hitherto they had advanced no farther than a sort of outer 
room, or hall of entrance, fitted up with no more expense than 
might have suited one who desired, at some outlay, and more 
taste, to avail himself of the ancient building for a sequestered 
and private retirement. The chairs and couches were covered 
with Eastern wove mats, and were of the simplest and most 
primitive form. But on touching a spring, an interior apart- 
ment was displayed, which had considerable pretension to 
splendor and magnificence. 

The furniture and hangings of this apartment were of straw- 
colored silk, wrought on the looms of Persia, and crossed with 
embroidery, which produced a rich, yet simple effect. The 
ceiling was carved in Arabesque, and the four corners of the 
apartment w r ere formed into recesses for statuary, which had 
been produced in a better age of the art than that which existed 
at the period of our story. In one nook, a shepherd seemed to 
withdraw himself, as if ashamed to produce his scantily-covered 
person, while he was willing to afford the audience the music 
of the reed which he held in his hand. Three damsels, resem- 
bling the Graces in the beautiful proportions of their limbs, and 
the slender clothing which they wore, lurked in different atti- 
tudes, each in her own niche, and seemed but to await the first 
sound of the music, to bound forth from thence and join in the 
frolic dance. The subject was beautiful, yet somewhat light, 
to ornament the study of such a sage as Agelastes represented 
himself to be. 

He seemed to be sensible that this might attract observation. 
— “ These figures,” he said, “ executed at the period of the 
highest excellence of Grecian art, were considered of old as the 
choral nymphs assembled to adore the goddess of the place, 
waiting but the music to join in the worship of the temple. 
And, in truth, the wisest may be interested in seeing how near 
to animation the genius of these wonderful men could bring 
the inflexible marble. Allow but for the absence of the divine 
afflatus, or breath of animation, and an unenlightened heathen 
might suppose the miracle of Prometheus was about to be 
realized. But we,” said he, looking upwards, “ are taught to 
form a better judgment between what man can do and the pro 
ductions of the Deit-w ” 


1 68 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


Some subjects of natural history were painted on the walls, 
and the philosopher fixed the attention of his guests upon the 
half-reasoning elephant, of which he mentioned several anec- 
dotes, which they listened to with great eagerness. 

A distant strain was here heard, as if of music in the woods, 
penetrating by fits through the hoarse roar of the cascade, which, 
as it sank immediately below the windows, filled the apartment 
with its deep voice. 

“ Apparently,” said Agelastes, “ the friends whom I 2xpected 
are approaching, and bring with them the means of enchanting 
another sense. It is well they do so, since wisdom tells us that 
we best honor the Deity by enjoying the gifts he has provided us.” 

These words called the attention of the philosopher’s 
Frankish guests to the preparations exhibited in this tasteful 
saloon. These were made for an entertainment in the manner 
of the ancient Romans; and couches, which were laid beside 
a table ready decked, announced that the male guests, at least, 
were to assist at the banquet in the usual recumbent posture of 
the ancients ; while seats, placed among the couches, seemed 
to say that females were expected, who would observe the 
Grecian customs, in eating seated. The preparations for good 
cheer were such as, though limited in extent, could scarce be 
excelled in quality, either by the splendid dishes which decked 
Trimalchio’s banquet of former days, or the lighter delicacies 
of Grecian cookery, or the succulent and highly-spiced messes 
indulged in by the nations of the East, to whichever they hap-, 
pened to give the preference ; and it was with an air of some 
vanity that Agelastes asked his guests to share a poor pilgrim’s 
meal. 

“ We care little for dainties,” said the Count ; “ nor does our 
present course of life as pilgrims, bound by a vow, allow us 
much choice on such subjects. Whatever is food for soldiers 
suffices the Countess and myself ; for, with our will, we would 
at every hour be ready for battle, and the less time we use in 
preparing for the field it is even so much the better. Sit, then, 
Brenhilda, since the good man will have it so, and let us lose 
no time in refreshment, lest we waste that which should be 
otherwise employed.” 

“ A moment’s forgiveness,” said Agelastes, until the arrival 
of my other friends, whose music you may now hear is close at 
hand, and who will not long, I may safely promise, divide you 
from your meal.” 

“ For that,” said the Count, “ there is no haste ; and since 
you seem to account it a part of civil manners, Brenhilda and I 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


169 

can with ease postpone our repast, unless you will permit us, 
what I own would be more pleasing, to take a morsel of bread 
and a cup of water presently ; and, thus refreshed, to leave the 
space clear for your more curious and more familiar guests.” 

“ The saints above forbid ! ” said Agelastes ; “ guests so hon- 
ored never before pressed these cushions, nor could do so, if 
the sacred family of the imperial Alexius himself even now stood 
at the gate.” 

He had hardly uttered these words, when the full-blown peal 
of a trumpet, louder in a tenfold degree than the strains of 
music they had before heard, was now sounded in the front of 
the temple, piercing through the murmur of the waterfall, as a 
Damascus blade penetrates the armor, and assailing the ears of 
the hearers as the sword pierces the flesh of him who wears the 
harness. 

“ You seem surprised or alarmed, father,” said Count Robert. 
“ Is there danger near, and do you distrust our protection ? ” 

“ No,” said Agelastes, “ that would give me confidence in any 
extremity ; but these sounds excite awe, not fear. They tell 
me that some of the Imperial family are about to be my guests. 
Yet fear nothing, my noble friends — they, whose look is life, are 
ready to shower their favors with profusion upon strangers so 
worthy of honor as they will see here. Meantime, my brow 
must touch my threshold, in order duly to welcome them.” So 
saying, he hurried to the outer door of the building. 

“ Each land has its customs,” said the Count, as he followed 
his host, with his wife hanging on his arm ; “but, Brenhilda, 
as they are so various, it is little wonder that they appear un- 
seemly to each other. Here, however, in deference to my enter- 
tainer, I stoop my crest, in the manner which seems to be 
required*.” So saying, he followed Agelastes into the ante^ 
room, where a new scene awaited them. 


CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 


Omne solum forti, patria est. 

Ovid’s Fasti. 

Agelastes gained his threshold before Count Robert of Paris 
and his lady. He had, therefore, time to make his prostrations 
before a huge animal, then unknown to the western world, but 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


170 

now universally distinguished as the elephant. On its back was 
a pavilion or palankin, within which were enclosed the august 
persons of the Empress Irene, and her daughter Anna Comnena. 
Nicephorus Briennius attended the Princesses in the command 
of a gallant body of light horse, whose splendid armor would 
have given more pleasure to the crusader, if it had possessed less 
an air of useless wealth and effeminate magnificence. But the 
effect which it produced in its appearance was as brilliant as 
could well be conceived. The officers alone of this corps de garde 
followed Nicephorus to the platform, prostrated themselves while 
the ladies of the Imperial house descended, and rose up again 
under a cloud of waving plumes and flashing lances, when they 
stood secure upon the platform in front of the building. Here 
the somewhat aged but commanding form of the Empress, and 
the still juvenile beauties of the fair historian, were seen to great 
advantage. In the front of a deep background of spears and 
waving crests stood the sounder of the sacred trumpet, con- 
spicuous by his size and the richness of his apparel ; he kept his 
post on a rock above the stone staircase, and, by an occasional 
note of his instrument, intimated to the squadrons beneath that 
they should stay their progress, and attend the motions of the 
Empress and the wife of the Caesar. 

The fair form of the Countess Brenhilda, and the fantastic 
appearance of her half masculine garb, attracted the attention of 
the ladies of Alexius’ family, but was too extraordinary to com- 
mand their admiration. Agelastes became sensible there was 
a necessity that he should introduce his guests to each other, if 
he desired they should meet on satisfactory terms. “ May I 
speak,” he said, and live? The armed strangers whom you 
find now with me are worthy companions of those myriads, 
whom zeal for the suffering inhabitants of Palestine has brought 
from the western extremity of Europe, at once to enjoy the 
countenance of Alexius Comnenus, and to aid him, since it 
pleases him to accept their assistance, in expelling the Paynims 
from the bounds of the sacred empire, and garrison these regions 
in their stead, as vassals of his Imperial Majesty.” 

“ We are pleased,” said the Empress, “ worthy Agelastes, that 
you should be kind to those who are disposed to be so reverent 
to the Emperor. And we are rather disposed to talk with them 
ourselves, that our daughter (whom Apollo hath gifted with the 
choice talent of recording what she sees) may become acquainted 
with one of those female warriors of the West, of whom we have 
heard so much by common fame, and yet know so little with 
certainty.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


* 7 * 

“ Madam,” said the Count, “ I can but rudely express to you 
what I have to find fault with in the explanation which this 
old man hath given of our purpose in coming hither. Certain 
it is, we neither owe Alexius fealty, nor had we the purpose of 
paying him any, when we took the vow upon ourselves which 
brought us against Asia. We came, because we understood 
that the Holy Land had been torn from the Greek Emperor by 
the Pagans, Saracens, Turks, and other infidels, from whom we 
are come to win it back. The wisest and most prudent among 
us have judged it necessary to acknowledge the Emperor’s 
authority, since there was no such safe way of passing to the 
discharge of our vow, as that of acknowledging fealty to him, as 
the best mode of preventing quarrels among Christian States. 
We, though independent of any earthly king, do not pretend to 
be greater men than they, and therefore have condescended to 
pay the same homage.” 

The Empress colored several times with indignation in the 
course of this speech, which, in more passages than one, was at 
variance with those imperial maxims of the Grecian court, which 
held its dignity so high, and plainly intimated a tone of opinion 
which was depreciating to the Emperor’s power. But the Em- 
press Irene had received instructions from her imperial spouse to 
beware how she gave, or even took, any ground of quarrel with 
the crusaders, who, though coming in the appearance of subjects, 
were, nevertheless, too punctilious and ready to take fire, to ren- 
der them safe discussers of delicate differences. She made a 
graceful reverence accordingly, as if she had scarce understood 
what the Count of Paris had explained so bluntly. 

At this moment the appearance of the principal persons on 
either hand attracted, in a wonderful degree, the attention of 
the other party, and there seemed to exist among them a 
general desire of further acquaintance, and, at the same time, 
a manifest difficulty in expressing such a wish. 

Agelastes — to begin with the master of the house — had 
risen from the ground indeed, but without venturing to assume 
an upright posture : he remained before the Imperial ladies 
with his body and head still bent, his hand interposed between 
his eyes and their faces, like a man that would shade his eye- 
sight from the level sun, and awaited in silence the commands 
of those to whom he seemed to think it disrespectful to propose 
the slightest action, save by testifying in general that his house 
and his slaves were at their unlimited command. The Countess 
of Paris, on the other hand, and her warlike husband, were the 
peculiar objects of curiosity to Irene, and her accomplished 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


172 

daughter, Anna Comnena ; and it occurred to both these In* 
perial ladies, that they had never seen finer specimens of human 
strength and beauty ; but, by a natural instinct, they preferred 
the manly bearing of the husband to that of the wife, which 
seemed to her own sex rather too haughty and too masculine to 
be altogether pleasing. 

Count Robert and his lady had also their own object of 
attention in the newly arrived group, and, to speak truth, it 
was nothing else than the peculiarities of the monstrous animal 
which they now saw, for the first time, employed as a beast 
of burden in the service of the fair Irene and her daughter. 
The dignity and splendor of the elder Princess, the grace 
and vivacity of the younger, were alike lost in Brenhilda’s 
earnest inquiries into the history of the elephant, and the use 
which it made of its trunk, tusks, and huge ears, upon different 
occasions. 

Another person, who took a less direct opportunity to gaze 
on Brenhilda with a deep degree of interest, was the Caesar, 
Nicephorus. This Prince kept his eye as steadily upon the 
Frankish Countess as he could well do, without attracting the 
attention, and exciting perhaps the suspicions, of his wife and 
mother-in-law ; he therefore endeavored to restore speech to 
an interview which would have been awkward without it. “ It 
is possible,” he said, “ beautiful Countess, that this being your 
first visit to the Queen of the world, you have never hitherto 
seen the singularly curious animal called the elephant.” 

“ Pardon me,” said the Countess, “ I have been treated by 
this learned gentleman to a sight and some account of that 
wonderful creature.” 

By all who heard this observation, the Lady Brenhilda was 
supposed to have made a satirical thrust at the philosopher him- 
self, who, in the Imperial court, usually went by the name of 
the Elephant. 

“ No one could describe the beast more accurately than 
Agelastes,” said the Princess, with a smile of intelligence, which 
went round her attendants. 

“ He knows its docility, its sensibility, and its fidelity,” said 
the philosopher in a subdued tone. 

“ True, good Agelastes,” said the Princess ; “ we should not 
criticize the animal which kneels to take us up. — Come, lady 
of a foreign land,” she continued, turning to the Frank Count, 
and especially his Countess — “ and you her gallant lord ! 
When you return to your native country, you shall say you have 
Keen the Imperial family paitake of their food, and in so fat 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*73 


acknowledge themselves to be of the same clay with other 
mortals, sharing their poorest wants, and relieving them in the 
same manner.” 

“ That, gentle lady, I can well believe,” said Count Robert ; 
“ my curiosity would be more indulged by seeing this strange 
animal at his food.” 

“You will see the elephant more conveniently at his mess 
within doors,” answered the Princess, looking at Agelastes. 

“ Lady,” said Brenhilda, “ I would not willingly refuse an 
invitation given in courtesy, but the sun has waxed low un- 
noticed, and we must return to the city.” 

“ Be not afraid,” said the fair historian ; “ you shall have 
the advantage of our Imperial escort to protect you in your re- 
turn.” 

“Fear? — afraid? — escort? — protect? — These are words I 
know not. Know, lady, that my husband, the noble Count of 
Paris, is my sufficient escort ; and even were he not with me, 
Brenhilda de Aspramonte fears nothing, and can defend her- 
self.” 

“ Fair daughter,” said Agelastes, “if I may be permitted to 
speak, you mistake the gracious intentions of the Princess, who 
expresses herself as to a lady of her own land. What she 
desires is to learn from you some of the most marked habits 
and manners of the Franks, of which you are so beautiful an 
example ; and in return for such information, the illustrious 
Princess would be glad to procure your entrance to those 
spacious collections, where animals from all corners of the 
habitable world have been assembled at the command of our 
Emperor Alexius, as if to satisfy the wisdom of those sages to 
whom all creation is known, from the deer so small in size that 
it is exceeded by an ordinary rat, to that huge and singular 
inhabitant of Africa that can browse on the tops of trees that 
are forty feet high, while the length of its hind-legs does not ex- 
ceed the half of that wondrous height.” 

“ It is enough,” said the Countess, with some eagerness ; 
but Agelastes had got a point of discussion after his own mind. 

“ There is also,” he said, “ that huge lizard, which, re- 
sembling in shape the harmless inhabitant of the moors of 
other countries, is in Egypt a monster thirty feet in length, 
clothed in impenetrable scales, and moaning over his prey 
when he catches it, with the hope and purpose of drawing 
others within his danger, by mimicking the lamentations of 
humanity.” 

“ Say no more, father ! ” exclaimed the lady. “ My Robert^ 
we will go — will we not, where such objects are to be seen ? ” 


174 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“There is also,” said Agelastes, who saw that he would gain 
his point by addressing himself to the curiosity of the strangers, 
“ the huge animal, wearing on its back an invulnerable vest- 
ment, having on its nose a horn, and sometimes two, the folds 
of whose hide are of the most immense thickness, and which 
never knight was able to wound.” 

“We will go, Robert — will we not?” reiterated the Coun- 
tess. 

“Ay,” replied the Count, “and teach these Easterns how 
to' judge of a knight’s sword, by a single blow of my trusty 
Tranchefer.” 

“And who knows,” said Brenhilda, “ since this is a land of 
enchantment, but what some person, who is languishing in a 
foreign shape, may have their enchantment unexpectedly dis- 
solved by a stroke of the good weapon ? ” 

“ Say no more, father ! ” exclaimed the Count. “We will 
attend this Princess, since such she is, were her whole escort 
bent to oppose our passage, instead of being by her command 
to be our guard. For know, all who hear me, thus much of the 
nature of the Franks, that when you tell us of danger and diffi- 
culties, you give us the same desire to travel the road where 
they lie, as other men have in seeking either pleasure or profit 
in the paths in which such are to be found.” 

As the Count pronounced these words, he struck his hand 
upon his Tranchefer, as an illustration of the manner in which 
he purposed upon occasion to make good his way. The 
courtly circle startled somewhat at the clash of steel, and the 
fiery look of the chivalrous Count Robert. The Empress in- 
dulged her alarm by retreating into the inner apartment of the 
pavilion. 

With a grace which was rarely deigned to any but those in 
close alliance with the Imperial family, Anna Comnena took the 
arm of the noble Count. “ I see,” she said, “ that the Imperial 
Mother has honored the house of the learned Agelastes, by 
leading the way ; therefore, to teach you Grecian breeding must 
fall to my share.” Saying this, she conducted him to the inner 
apartment. 

“ Fear not for your wife,” she said, as she noticed the Frank 
look round ; “our husband, like ourselves, has pleasure in show- 
ing attention to the stranger, and will lead the Countess to our 
board. It is not the custom of the Imperial family to eat in 
company with strangers ; but we thank Heaven for having in- 
structed us in that civility, which can know no degradation in 
dispensing with ordinary rules to do honor to strangers of such 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


»75 


merit as yours. I know it will be my mother’s request, that you 
will take your places without ceremony ; and also, although the 
grace be somewhat particular, I am sure that it will have my 
Imperial father’s approbation.” 

“ Be it as your ladyship lists,” said Count Robert. “ There 
are few men to whom I would yield place at the board, if they 
had not gone before me in the battle-field. To a lady, especially 
so fair a one, I willingly yield my place, and bend my knee, 
whenever I have the good hap to meet her.” 

The Princess Anna, instead of feeling herself awkward in 
the discharge of the extraordinary, and, as she might have 
thought it, degrading office of ushering a barbarian chief to the 
banquet, felt, on the contrary, flattered, at having bent to her 
purpose a heart so obstinate as that of Count Robert, and 
elated, perhaps, with a certain degree of satisfied pride while 
under his momentary protection. 

The Empress Irene had already seated herself at the head 
of the table. She looked with some astonishment when her 
daughter and son-in-law, taking their seats at her right and left 
hand, invited the Count and Countess of Paris, the former to 
recline, the latter to sit, at the board, in the places next to 
themselves ; but she had received the strictest orders from her 
husband to be deferential in every respect to the strangers, and 
did not think it right, therefore, to interpose any ceremonious 
scruples. 

The Countess took her seat, as indicated, beside the Caesar; 
and the Count, instead of reclining in the mode of the Grecian 
men, also seated himself in the European fashion by the 
Princess. 

“ I will not lie prostrate,” said he, laughing, “ except in con- 
sideration of a blow weighty enough to compel me to do so ; nor 
then either, if I am able to start up and return it.” 

The service of the table then began, and, to say truth, it 
appeared to be an important part of the business of the day. 
The officers who attended to perform their several duties of 
deckers of the table, sewers of the banquet, removers and 
tasters to the Imperial family, thronged into the banqueting- 
room, and seemed to vie with each other in calling upon 
Agelastes for spices, condiments, sauces, and wines of various 
kinds, the variety and multiplicity of their demands being 
apparently devised ex prcposito, for stirring the patience of the 
philosopher. But Agelastes, who had anticipated most of their 
requests, however unusual, supplied them completely, or in the 
greatest part, by the ready agency of his active slave Diogenes l 


C0UN7 ROBERT OF PARIS. 


176 

to whom, at the same time, he contrived to transfer all blame 
for the absence of such articles as he was unable to provide. 

“ Be Homer my witness, the accomplished Virgil, and the 
curious felicity of Horace, that, trifling and unworthy as this 
banquet was, my note of directions to this thrice unhappy 
slave gave the instructions to procure every ingredient neces- 
sary to convey to each dish its proper gusto. — Ill-omened 
carrion that thou art, wherefore placedst thou the pickled 
cucumber so far apart from the boar’s head ? and why are these 
superb congers unprovided with a requisite quantity of fennel ? 
The divorce betwixt the shell fish and the Chian wine, in a 
presence like this, is worthy of the divorce of thine own soul 
from thy body ; or, to say the least, of a lifelong residence in 
the Pistrinum.” While thus the philosopher proceeded with 
threats, curses, and menaces against his slave, the stranger 
might have an opportunity of comparing the little torrent of 
his domestic eloquence, which the manners of the times did 
not consider as ill-bred, with the louder and deeper share of 
adulation towards his guests. They mingled like the oil with 
the vinegar and pickles which Diogenes mixed for the sauce. 
Thus the Count and Countess had an opportunity to estimate 
the happiness and the felicity reserved for those slaves, whom 
the omnipotent Jupiter, in the plenitude of compassion for 
their state, and in guerdon of their good morals, had dedicated 
to the service of a philosopher. The share they themselves 
took in the banquet was finished with a degree of speed which 
gave surprise not only to their host, but also to the Imperial 
guests. 

The Count helped himself carelessly out of a dish which 
stood near him, and partaking of a draught of wine, without 
inquiring whether it was of the vintage which the Greeks held 
it matter of conscience to mingle with the species of food, he 
declared himself satisfied ; nor could the obliging entreaties of 
his neighbor, Anna Comnena, induce him to partake of other 
messes represented as being either delicacies or curiosities. 
His spouse ate still more moderately of the food which seemed 
most simple cooked, and stood nearest her at the board, and 
partook of a cup of crystal water, which she slightly tinged 
with wine, at the persevering entreaty of the Caesar. They 
then relinquished the farther business of the banquet, and 
leaning back upon their seats, occupied themselves in watching 
the liberal credit done to the feast by the rest of the guests 
present. 

A modern synod of gourmands would hardly have equalled 


COUNT ROB EXT OF PARIS. 


*77 

the Imperial family of Greece seated at a philosophical banquet, 
whether in the critical knowledge displayed of the science of 
eating in all its branches, or in the practical cost and patience 
with which they exercised it. The ladies, indeed, did not eat 
much of any one dish, but they tasted of almost all that were 
presented to them, and their name was Legion. Yet after a 
short time, in Homeric phrase, the rage of thirst and hunger 
was assuaged, or, more probably, the Princess Anna Comnena 
was tired of being an object of some inattention to the guest 
who sat next her, and who, joining his high military character 
to his very handsome presence, was a person by whom few 
ladies would willingly be neglected. There is no new guise, 
says our father Chaucer, but what resembles an old one ; and 
the address of Anna Comnena to the Frankish Count might 
resemble that of a modern lady of fashion, in her attempts to 
engage in conversation the exquisite , who sits by her side in an 
apparently absent fit. “ We have piped unto you,” said the 
Princess, “ and you have not danced ! We have sung to you 
the jovial chorus of Evoe, evoe, and you will neither worship 
Comus nor Bacchus ! Are we then to judge you a follower of 
the Muses, in whose service, as well as in that of Phoebus, we 
ourselves pretended to be enlisted ? ” 

“ Fair lady,” replied the Frank, “ be not offended at my 
stating once for all, in plain terms, that I am a Christian man, 
spitting at and bidding defiance to Apollo, Bacchus, Comus, 
and all other heathen deities whatsoever.” 

“ O cruel interpretation of my unwary words ! ” said the 
Princess; “I did but mention the gods of music, poetry, and 
eloquence, worshipped by our divine philosophers, and whose 
names are still used to distinguish the arts and sciences over 
which they presided — and the Count interprets it seriously into 
a breach of the second commandment ! Our Lady preserve 
me, we must take care how we speak, when our words are so 
sharply interpreted.” 

The Count laughed as the Princess spoke. “ I had no offen- 
sive meaning, madam,” he said, “nor would I wish to interpret 
your words otherwise than as being most innocent and praise- 
worthy. I shall suppose that your speech contained all that 
was fair and blameless. You are, I have understood, one of 
those who, like our worthy host, express in composition the 
history and feats of the warlike time in which you live, and 
give to the posterity which shall succeed us the knowledge of 
the brave deeds which have been achieved in our day. I 
respect the task to which you have dedicated yourself, and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


178 

know not how a lady could lay after ages under an obligation 
to her in the same degree, unless, like my wife, Brenhilda, she 
were herself to be the actress of deeds which she recorded. 
And, by the way, she now looks towards her neighbor at the 
table, as if she were about to rise and leave him ; her inclina- 
tions are towaids Constantinople, and, with your ladyship’s 
permission, I cannot allow her to go thither alone.” 

“ That you shall neither of you do,” said Anna Comnena ; 
r * since we all go to the capital directly, and for the purpose of 
seeing those wonders of nature, of which numerous examples 
have been collected by the splendor of my Imperial father. — 
If my husband seems to have given offence to the Countess, do 
not suppose that it was intentionally dealt to her ; on the 
contrary, you will find the good man, when you are better 
acquainted with him, to be one of those simple persons who 
manage so unhappily what they mean for civilities, that those 
to whom they are addressed receive them frequently in another 
sense.” 

The Countess of Paris, however, refused again to sit down 
to the table from which she had risen, so that Agelastes and 
his Imperial guests saw themselves under the necessity either to 
permit the strangers to depart, which they seemed unwilling to 
do, or to detain them by force, to attempt which might not perhaps 
have been either safe or pleasant ; or, lastly, to have waived 
the etiquette of rank and set out along with them, at the same 
time managing their dignity, so as to take the initiatory step, 
though the departure took place upon the motion of their wilful 
guests. Much tumult there was — bustling, disputing, and 
shouting among the troops and officers who were thus moved 
from their repast, two hours at least sooner than had been ex- 
perienced upon similar occasions in the memory of the oldest 
among them. A different arrangement of the Imperial party 
likewise seemed to take place by mutual consent. 

Nicephorus Briennius ascended the seat upon the elephant, 
and remained there placed beside his august mother-in-law. 
Agelastes, on a sober-minded palfrey, which permitted him to 
prolong his philosophical harangues at his own pleasure, rode 
beside the Countess Brenhilda, whom he made the principal 
object of his oratory. The fair historian, though she usually 
travelled in a litter, preferred upon this occasion a spirited 
horse, which enabled her to keep pace with Count Robert of 
Paris, on whose imagination, if not his feelings, she seemed to 
have it in view to work a marked impression. The conversation 
» f the Empress with her son-in-law requires no special detail. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


179 

It was a tissue of criticisms upon the manners and behavior of 
the Franks, and a hearty wish that they might be soon trans- 
ported from the realms of Greece, never more to return. Such 
was at least the tone of the Empress, nor did the Caesar find it 
convenient to express any more tolerant opinion of the strangers. 
On the other hand, Agelastes made a long circuit ere he ven- 
tured to approach the subject which he wished to introduce. 
He spoke of the menagerie of the Emperor as a most superb 
collection of natural history ; he extolled different persons at 
court for having encouraged Alexius Comnenus in this wise 
and philosophical amusement. But, finally, the praise of all 
others was abandoned that the philosopher might dwell upon 
that of Nicephorus Briennius, to whom the cabinet or collec- 
tion of Constantinople was indebted, he said, for the principal 
treasures it contained. 

“ I am glad it is so,” said the haughty Countess, without 
lowering her voice or affecting any change of manner ; “ I am 
glad that he understands some things better worth understand- 
ing than whispering with stranger young women. Credit me, 
if he gives much license to his tongue among such women of 
my country as these stirring times may bring hither, some one 
or other of them will fling him into the cataract which dashes 
below.” 

“ Pardon me, fair lady,” said Agelastes ; “ no female heart 
could meditate an action so atrocious against so fine a form as 
that of the Caesar Nicephorus Briennius.” 

“ Put it not on that issue, father,” said the offended Coun- 
tess ; “ for, by my patroness Saint, Our Lady of the Broken 
Lances, had it not been for regard to these two lad.es, who 
seemed to intend some respect to my husband and myself, that 
same Nicephorus should have been as perfectly a Lord of the 
Broken Bones as any Caesar who has borne the title since the 
great Julius ! ” 

The philosopher, upon this explicit information, began to 
entertain some personal fear for himself, and hastened, by 
diverting the conversation, which he did with great dexterity, 
to the story of Hero and Leander, to put the affront received 
out of the head of this unscrupulous Amazon. 

Meantime, Count Robert of Paris was engrossed, as it may 
be termed, by the fair Anna Comnena. She spoke on all sub- 
jects, on some better, doubtless, others worse, but on none did 
she suspect herself of any deficiency ; while the good Count 
wished heartily within himself that his companion had been 
safely in bed with the enchanted Princess of Zulichium. She 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 

performed, right or wrong, the part of a panegyrist of the Nor- 
mans, until at length the Count, tired of hearing her prate oi: 
she knew not exactly what, broke in as follows : — 

“ Lady,” he said, “notwithstanding I and my followers are 
sometimes so named, yet we are not Normans, who come hither 
as a numerous and separate body of pilgrims, under the com- 
mand of their Duke Robert, a valiant, though extravagant, 
thoughtless, and weak man. I say nothing against the fame 
of these Normans They conquered, in our father’s days, a 
kingdom far stronger than their own, which men call England ; 

I see that you entertain some of the natives of which country 
in your pay, under the name of Varangians. Although defeated, 
as I said, by the Normans, they are, nevertheless, a brave race ; 
nor would we think ourselves much dishonored by mixing in 
battle with them. Still we are the valiant Franks, who had 
their dwelling on the eastern banks of the Rhine and of the 
Saale, who were converted to the Christian faith by the cele- 
brated Clovis, and are sufficient, by our numbers and courage, 
to reconquer the Holy Land, should all Europe besides stand 
neutral in the contest.” 

There are few things more painful to the vanity of a person 
like the Princess than the being detected in an egregious error, 
at the moment she is taking credit to herself for being pecu- 
liarly accurately informed. 

“ A false slave, who knew not what he was saying, I sup- 
pose,” said the Princess, “ imposed upon me the belief that the 
Varangians were the natural enemies of the Normans. I see 
him marching there by the side of Achilles Tatius, the leader 
of his corps. — Call him hither, you officers ! — Yonder tall man, 
I mean, with the battle-axe upon his shoulder.” 

Hereward, distinguished by his post at the head of the 
squadron, was summoned from thence to the presence of the 
Princess, where he made his military obeisance with a cast of 
sternness in his aspect, as his glance lighted upon the proud 
look of the Frenchman who rode beside Anna Comnena. 

“ Did I not understand thee, fellow,” said Anna Comnena, 
“ to have informed me, nearly a month ago, that the Normans 
and the Franks were the same people, and enemies to the race 
from which you spring ? ” 

“ The Normans are our mortal enemies, Lady,” answered 
Hereward, “ by whom we were driven from our native land. 
The Franks are subjects of the same Lord Paramount with the 
Normans, and therefore they neither love the Varangians, nor 
are beloved by them.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


181 


“Good fellow,” said the French Count, “you do the Franks 
wrong, and ascribe to the Varangians, although not unnaturally, 
an undue degree of importance, when you suppose that a race 
which has ceased to exist as an independent nation for more 
than a generation, can be either an object of interest or resent- 
ment to such as we are.” 

“ I am no stranger,” said the Varangian, " to the pride of 
your heart, or the precedence which you assume over those who 
have been less fortunate in war than yourselves. It is God who 
casteth down and who buildeth up, nor is there in the world a 
prospect to which the Varangians would look forward with more 
pleasure than that a hundred of their number should meet in a 
fair field, either with the oppressive Normans, or their modern 
compatriots, the vain Frenchmen, and let God be the judge 
which is most worthy of Victory.” 

“ You take an insolent advantage of the chance,” said the 
Count of Paris, which gives you an unlooked-for opportunity 
to brave a nobleman.” 

“It is my sorrow and shame,” said the Varangian, “that 
that opportunity is not complete ; and that there is a chain 
around me which forbids me to say, Slay me, or I’ll kill thee 
before we part from this spot ! ” 

“ Why, thou foolish and hot-brained churl,” replied the 
Count, “ what right hast thou to the honor of dying by my blade ? 
Thou art mad, or hast drained the ale-cup so deeply that thou 
knowest not what thou thinkest or sayest.” 

“ Thou best,” said the Varangian, “ though such a reproach 
be the utmost scandal of thy race.” 

The Frenchman motioned his hand quicker than light to his 
sword, but instantly withdrew it, and said with dignity, “ Thou 
canst not offend me.” 

“ But thou,” said the exile, “ hast offended me in a matter 
which can be only atoned by thy manhood.” 

“Where and how?” answered the Count; although it is 
needless to ask the question, which thou canst not answer 
rationally.” 

“Thou hast this day,” answered the Varangian, “put a 
mortal affront upon a great prince, whom thy master calls his 
ally, and by whom thou hast been received with every rite of 
hospitality. Him thou hast affronted as one peasant at a merry- 
making would do shame to another, and this dishonor thou hast 
done to him in the very face of his own chiefs and princes, and 
the nobles from every court of Europe.” 

“ It was thy master’s part to resent my conduct,” said th« 
Frenchman, “ if in reality he so much felt it as an affront.” 


182 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“But that,” said Hereward, “did not consist with the man* 
ners of his country to do. Besides that, we trusty Varangians 
esteem ourselves bound by our oath as much to defend our Em* 
peror, while the service lasts, on every inch of his honor as on 
every foot of his territory ; I therefore tell thee, Sir Knight, Sir 
Count, or whatever thou callest thyself, there is mortal quarrel 
between thee and the Varangian guard, ever and until thou hast 
fought it out in fair and manly battle, body to body, with one of 
the said Imperial Varangians, when duty and opportunity shall 
permit ; — and so God schaw the right ! ” 

As this passed in the French language, the meaning escaped 
the understanding of such Imperialists as were within hearing 
at the time ; and the Princess, who waited with some astonish- 
ment till the Crusader and the Varangian had finished their 
conference, when it was over, said to him with interest, “ I trust 
you feel that poor man’s situation to be too much at a distance 
from your own, to admit of your meeting him in what is termed 
knightly battle ? ” 

“ On such a question,” said the knight, “ I have but one 
answer to any lady who does not, like my Brenhilda, cover 
herself with a shield, and bear a sword by her side, and the 
heart of a knight in her bosom.” 

“And suppose for once,” said the Princess Anna Comnena, 
“ that I possessed such titles to your confidence, what would 
your answer be to me ? ” 

“ There can be little reason for concealing it,” said the 
Count. “ The Varangian is a brave man, and a strong one ; it is 
contrary to my vow to shun his challenge, and perhaps I shall 
derogate from my rank by accepting it ; but the world is wide, 
and he is yet to be born who has seen Robert of Paris shun 
the face of mortal man. By means of some gallant officer 
among the Emperor’s guards, this poor fellow, who nourishes 
so strange an ambition, shall learn that he shall have his wish 
gratified.” 

“ And then ? ” said Anna Comnena. 

“Why then,” said the Count, “in the poor man’s own 
language, God schaw the right ! ” 

“ Which is to say,” said the Princess, “ that if my father has 
an officer of his guards honorable enough to forward so pious 
and reasonable a purpose, the Emperor must lose an ally, in 
whose faith he puts confidence, or a most trusty and faithful 
soldier of his personal guard, who has distinguished himself 
upon many occasions ? ” 

“ I am happy to hear,” said the Count, “ that the man bears 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


183 

such a character. In truth, his ambition ought to have some 
foundation. The more I think of it, the rather am I of opinion 
that there is something generous, rather than derogatory in 
giving to the poor exile, whose thoughts are so high and noble 
those privileges of a man of rank, which some who were born 
m such lofty station are too cowardly to avail themselves of 
Yet despond not, noble Princess ; the challenge is not yet 
accepted of, and if it was, the issue is in the hand of God. As 
for me, whose trade is war, the sense that I have something so 
serious to transact with this resolute man will keep me from 
other less honorable quarrels, in which a lack of occupation 
might be apt to involve me.” 

The princess made no farther observation, being resolved, 
by private remonstrances to Achilles Tatius, to engage him to 
prevent a meeting which might be fatal to the one or the other 
of two brave men. The town now darkened before them, spar- 
kling, at the same time, through its obscurity, by the many lights 
which illuminated the houses of the citizens. The royal caval- 
cade held their way to the Golden Gate, where the trusty cen- 
turion put his guard under arms to receive them. 

“ We must now break off, fair ladies,” said the Count, as the 
party, having now dismounted, were standing together at the 
private gate of the Blacquernal Palace, “ and find as we can 
the lodgings which we occupied last night.” 

“ Under your favor, no,” said the Empress. “ You must be 
content to take your supper and repose in quarters more fitting 
your rank ; and,” added Irene, “with no worse quartermaster 
than one of the Imperial family who has been your travelling 
companion.” 

This the Count heard, with considerable inclination to 
accept the hospitality which was so readily offered. Although 
as devoted as a man could well be to the charms of his Bren- 
hilda, the very idea never having entered his head of preferring 
another’s beauty to hers, yet, nevertheless, he had naturally felt 
himself flattered by the attentions of a woman of eminent 
beauty and very high rank ; and the praises with which the 
Princess had loaded him had not entirely fallen to the ground. 
He was no longer in the humor in which the morning had 
found him, disposed to outrage the feelings of the Emperor, 
and to insult his dignity ; but, flattered by the adroit sycophancy 
which the old philosopher had learned him from the schools, 
and the beautiful Princess had been gifted with by nature, he 
assented to the Empress’s proposal ; the more readily, perhaps, 
that the darkness did not permit him to see that there was dis* 
tinctly a shade of displeasure on the brow of Brenhilda. What* 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


184 

ever the cause, she cared not to express it, and the married 
pair had just entered that labyrinth of passages through which 
Hereward had formerly wandered, when a chamberlain and a 
female attendant, richly dressed, bent the knee before them, 
and offered them the means and place to adjust their attire, ere 
they entered the Imperial presence. Brenhilda looked upon 
her apparel and arms, spotted with the blood of the insolent 
Scythian, and, Amazon as she was, felt the shame of being 
carelessly and improperly dressed. The arms of the knight 
were also bloody, and in disarrangement. 

“ Tell my female squire, Agatha, to give her attendance,’’ 
said the Countess. “ She alone is in the habit of assisting to 
unarm and to attire me.” 

“ Now, God be praised,” thought the Grecian lady of the 
bed-chamber, “ that I am not called to a toilet where smiths’ 
hammers and tongs are like to be the instruments most in 
request ! ” 

“ Tell Marcian, my armorer,” said the Count, “ to attend 
with the silver and blue suit of plate and mail which I won in 
a wager from the Count of Thoulouse.” * 

“ Might I not have the honor of adjusting your armor,” said 
a splendidly dressed courtier, with some marks of the armorer’s 
profession, “ since I have put on that of the Emperor himself ? 
— may his name be sacred ! ” 

“And how many rivets hast thou clenched upon the occa- 
sion with this hand,” said the Count, catching hold of it, 
“ which looks as if it had never been washed, save with milk 
of roses, — and with this childish toy?” pointing to a hammer 
with ivory haft and silver head, which, stuck into a milk-white 
kidskin apron, the official wore as badges of his duty. The 
armorer fell back in some confusion. “ His grasp,” he said to 
another domestic, “ is like the seizure of a vice ! ” 

While this little scene passed apart, the Empress Irene, her 
daughter, and her son-in-law, left the company, under pretence 
of making a necessary change in their apparel. Immediately 
after, Agelastes was required to attend the Emperor, and the 
strangers were conducted to two adjacent chambers of retire- 
ment, splendidly fitted up, and placed for the present at their 
disposal, and that of their attendants. There we shall for a 
time leave them, assuming, with the assistance of their own 

* Raymond, Count of Thoulouse and St. Giles, Duke of Carboune, and Marquis of 
Provence, an aged warrior who had won high distinction in the contests against the Saracens 
in Spain, was the chief leader of the Crusaders from the south of France. His title of St, 
Giles is corrupted by Anna Comnena into Wangles, by which name she constantly mentions 
him in the Alexiad. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


i8 5 

attendants, a dress which their ideas regarded as most fit for a 
great occasion ; those of the Grecian court willingly keeping 
apart from a task which they held nearly as formidable as 
assisting at the lair of a royal tiger or his bride. 

Agelastes found the Emperor sedulously arranging his most 
splendid court-dress ; for, as in the court of Pekin, the change 
of ceremonial attire was a great part of the ritual observed at 
Constantinople. 

“ Thou hast done well, wise Agelastes,” said Alexius to the 
philosopher, as he approached with abundance of prostrations 
and genuflections — “ Thou hast done well, and we are content 
with thee. Less than thy wit and address must have failed in 
separating from their company this tameless bull and unyoked 
heifer, over whom, if we obtain influence, we shall command, 
by every account, no small interest among those who esteem 
them the bravest in the host.” 

“ My humble understanding,” said Agelastes, “ had been 
infinitely ir.feiior to the management of so prudent and saga- 
cious a scheme, had it not been shaped forth and suggested by 
the inimitable wisdom of your most sacred Imperial Highness.” 

“ We are aware,” said Alexius, “ that we had the merit of 
blocking forth the scheme of detaining these persons, either by 
their choice as allies, or by main force as hostages. Their 
friends, ere yet they have missed them, will be engaged in war 
with the Turks, and at no liberty, if the devil should suggest 
such an undertaking, to take arms against the sacred empire. 
Thus, Agelastes, we shall obtain hostages at least as important 
and as valuable as that Count of Vermandois, whose liberty 
the tremendous Godfrey of Bouillon extorted from us by threats 
of instant war.” 

“ Pardon,” said Agelastes, “ if I add another reason to 
those which of themselves so happily support your august 
resolution. It is possible that we may, by observing the great- 
est caution and courtesy towards these strangers, win them in 
good earnest to our side.” 

“ I conceive you, I conceive you,” — said the Emperor ; “ and 
this very night I will exhibit myself to this Count and his lady 
in the royal presence chamber, in the richest robes which 
our wardrobe can furnish. The lions of Solomon shall roar, 
the golden tree of Comneus shall display its wonders, and the 
feeble eyes of these Franks shall be altogether dazzled by the 
splendor of the empire. These spectacles cannot but sink into 
their minds, and dispose them to become the allies and ser- 
vants of a nation so much more powerful, skilful, and wealthy 


i86 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


than their own — Thou hast something to say, Agelastes. Years 
and long study have made thee wise ; though we have given 
our opinion, thou mayst speak thine own and live.” 

Thrice three times did Agelastes press his brow against the 
hem of the Emperor’s garment, and great seemed his anxiety 
to find such words as might intimate his dissent from his sov- 
ereign, yet save him from the informality of contradicting him 
expressly. 

“ These sacred words in which your sacred Highness has 
uttered your most just and accurate opinions, are undeniable, 
and incapable of contradiction, were any vain enough to 
attempt to impugn them. Nevertheless, be it lawful to say, 
that men show the wisest arguments in vain to those who do not 
understand reason, just as you would in vain exhibit a curious 
piece of limning to the blind, or endeavor to bribe, as scripture 
saith, a sow by the offer of a precious stone. The fault is not, 
in such case, in the accuracy of your sacred reasoning, but in 
the obtuseness and perverseness of the barbarians to whom it 
is applied.” 

“ Speak more plainly,” said the Emperor ; “ how often must 
we tell thee, that in cases in which we really want counsel, we 
know we must be contented to sacrifice ceremony ? ” 

“ Then, in plain words,” said Agelastes, “ these European 
barbarians are like no others under the cope of the universe, 
either on the things on which they look with desire, or on those 
which they consider as discouraging. The treasures of this 
noble empire, so far as they affected their wishes, would merely 
inspire them with the desire to go to war with a nation pos- 
sessed of so much wealth, and who, in their self-conceited 
estimation, were less able to defend, than they themselves are 
powerful to assail. Of such a description, for instance, is 
Bohemond of Tarentum, — and such a one is many a crusader 
less able and sagacious than he ; for I think I need not tell 
your Imperial Divinity, that he holds his own self-interest to 
be the devoted guide of his whole conduct through this extraor- 
dinary war ; and that, therefore, you can justly calculate his 
course, when once you are aware from which point of the com- 
pass the wind of avarice and self-interest breathes with respect 
to him. But there are spirits among the Franks of a very 
different nature, and who must be acted upon by very different 
motives, if we would make ourselves masters of their actions, 
and the principles by which they are governed. If it were law- 
ful to do so, I would request your Majesty to look at the manner 
by which an artful juggler of your court achieves his imposition 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


aS 7 

upon the eyes of his spectators, yet heedfully disguises the 
means by which he attains his object. This people — I mean 
the more lofty-minded of these crusaders, who act up to the 
pretences of the doctrine which they call chivalry — despise 
the thirst of gold, and gold itself, unless to hilt their swords, 
or to furnish forth some necessary expenses, as alike useless 
and contemptible. The man who can be moved by the thirst 
of gain, they contemn, scorn, and despise, and liken him, in 
the meanness of his objects, to the most paltry serf that ever 
followed the plough, or wielded the spade. On the other 
hand, if it happens that they actually need gold, they are suf 
ficiently unceremonious in taking it where they can most easily 
find it. Thus, they are neither easily to be bribed by giving 
them sums of gold, nor to be starved into compliance by with- 
holding what chance may render necessary for them. In the 
one case, they set no value upon the gift of a little paltry yellow 
dross ; in the other, they are accustomed to take what they 
want.” 

“ Yellow dross ! ” interrupted Alexius. “ Do they call that 
noble metal, equally respected by Roman and barbarian, by 
rich and poor, by great and mean, by churchmen and laymen, 
which all mankind are fighting for, plotting for, planning for, 
intriguing for, and damning themselves for, both soul and 
body — by the opprobrious name of yellow dross ? They are 
mad, Agelastes, utterly mad. Perils and dangers, penalties 
and scourges, are the only arguments to which men who are 
above the universal influence which moves all others, can 
possibly be accessible.” 

“ Nor are they,” said Agelastes, “ more accessible to fear than 
they are to self-interest. They are, indeed, from their boyhood, 
brought up to scorn those passions which influence ordinary 
minds, whether by means of avarice to impel, or of fear to hold 
back. So much is this the case, that what is enticing to other 
men, must, to interest them, have the piquant sauce of extreme 
danger. I told, for instance, to this very hero, a legend of a 
Princess of Zulichium, who lay on an enchanted couch, beautiful 
as an angel, awaiting the chosen knight who should, by dispelling 
her enchanted slumbers, become master of her person, of her 
kingdom of Zulichium, and of her countless treasures; and would 
your Imperial Majesty believe me, I could scarce get the gallant 
to attend to my legend or take any interest in the adventure, 
till I assured him he would have to encounter a winged dragon, 
compared to which the largest of those in the Frank romances 
was but like a mere dragon-fly? ” 


x88 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ And did this move the gallant ? ” said the Emperor. 

“ So much so,” replied the philosopher, “ that had I not un- 
fortunately, by the earnestness of my description, awakened the 
jealousy of his Penthesilea of a Countess, he had forgotten the 
crusade and all belonging to it, to go in quest of Zulichium and 
its slumbering sovereign.” 

“ Nay, then,” said the Emperor, “we have in our empire 
(make us sensible of the advantage !) innumerable tale-tellers 
who are not possessed in the slightest degree of that noble 
scorn of gold which is proper to the Franks, but shall, for a 
brace of besants, lie with the devil, and beat him to boot, if in 
that manner we can gain, as mariners say, the weathergage of 
the Franks.” 

“ Discretion,” said Agelastes, “ is in the highest degree 
necessary. Simply to lie is no very great matter ; it is merely 
a departure from the truth, which is little different from 
missing a mark at archery, where the whole horizon, one point 
alone excepted, will alike serve the shooter’s purpose ; but to 
move the Frank as is desired, requires a perfect knowledge of 
his temper and disposition, great caution and presence of mind, 
and the most versatile readiness in changing from one subject 
to another. Had I not myself been somewhat alert, I might 
have paid the penalty of a false step in your Majesty’s service, 
by being flung into my own cascade by the virago whom I 
offended.” 

“ A perfect Thalestris ! ” said the Emperor ; 11 1 shall take 
care what offence I give her.” 

“ If I might speak and live,” said Agelastes, “ the Caesar 
Nicephorus Briennius had best adopt the same precaution.” 

“ Nicephorus,” said the Emperor, “ must settle that with our 
daughter. I have ever told her that she gives him too much of 
that history, of which a page or two is sufficiently refreshing ; 
but by our own self we must swear it, Agelastes, that, night after 
night, hearing nothing else, would subdue the patience of a saint ; 
— Forget, good Agelastes, that thou hast heard me say such a 
thing — more especially, remember it not when thou art in pres- 
ence of our Imperial wife and daughter.” 

“ Nor were the freedoms taken by the Caesar beyond the 
bounds of an innocent gallantry,” said Agelastes ; “ but the 
Countess, I must needs say, is dangerous. She killed this day 
the Scythian Toxartis, by what seemed a mere fillip on the head.” 

“ Hah i ” said the Emperor ; “ I knew that Toxartis, and he 
was like enough to deserve his death, being a bold unscrupulous 
marauder. Take notes, however, how it happened, the names of 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


189 

witnesses, etc., that, if necessary, we may exhibit the fact as a 
deed of aggression on the part of the Count and Countess of 
Paris, to the assembly of the crusaders.” 

“ I trust,” said Agelastes, “ your Imperial Majesty will not 
easily resign the golden opportunity of gaining to your stand- 
ard persons whose character stands so very high in chivalry. 
It would cost you but little to bestow upon them a Grecian 
island, worth a hundred of their own paltry lordship of Paris ; 
and if it were given under the condition of their expelling the 
infidels or the disaffected who may have obtained the temporary 
possession, it would be so much the more likely to be an accept- 
able offer I need not say that the whole knowledge, wisdom, 
and skill of the poor Agelastes is at your Imperial Majesty’s 
disposal.” 

The Emperor paused for a moment, and then said, as if on 
full consideration, “ Worthy Agelastes, I dare trust thee in this 
difficult and somewhat dangerous matter ; but I will keep my 
purpose of exhibiting to them the lions of Solomon, and the 
golden tree of our Imperial house.” 

“ To that there can be no objection,” returned the philoso- 
pher ; “ only remember to exhibit few guards, for these Franks 
are like a fiery horse ; when in temper he may be ridden with 
a silk thread, but when he has taken umbrage or suspicion, as 
they would likely do if they saw many armed men, a steel bridle 
would not restrain him.” 

“ I will be cautious,” said the Emperor, “in that particular, 
as well as others. — Sound the silver bell, Agelastes, that the 
officers of our wardrobe may attend.” 

“ One single word, while your Highness is alone,” said Age- 
lastes. “ Will your Imperial Majesty transfer to me the direction 
of your menagerie, or collection of extraordinary creatures ? ” 

“ You make me wonder,” said the Emperor, taking a signet, 
bearing upon it a lion, with the legend Vicit Leo ex tribu Judce. 
“ This,” he said, “ will give thee the command of our dens. 
And now, be candid for once with thy master — for deception is 
thy nature even with me — By what charm wilt thou subdue 
these untamed savages?” 

“ By the power of falsehood,” replied Agelastes, with deep 
reverence. 

“ I believe thee an adept in it,” said the Emperor. “And to 
which of their foibles wilt thou address it ? ” 

“ To their love of fame,” said the philosopher ; and retreated, 
backwards out of the royal apartment, as the officers of the ward- 
robe entered to complete the investment of the Emperor in hid 
Imperial habiliments. 


190 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 


I will converse with iron-witted fools 
And unrespective boys ; none are for me, 

That look into me with considerate eyes ; — 

Higlprc^ching BuckinghRin crows circumspect* 

Richard III. 

As they parted from each other, the Emperor and philosopher 
had each their own anxious thoughts on the interview which 
had passed between them ; thoughts which they expressed in 
broken sentences and ejaculations, though for the better under- 
standing of the degree of estimation in which they held each 
other, we will give them a more regular and intelligible form. 

“ Thus, then,” half muttered half said Alexius, but so low 
as to hide his meaning from the officers of the wardrobe, who 
entered to do their office, — “ thus, then, this bookworm — this 
remnant of old heathen philosophy, who hardly believes, so God 
save me, the truth of the Christian creed, has topp’d his part 
so well that he forces his Emperor to dissemble in his presence. 
Beginning by being the buffoon of the court, he has wormed 
himself into all its secrets, made himself master of all its in- 
trigues, conspired with my own son-in-law against me, debauched 
my guards, — indeed so woven his web of deceit, that my life is 
safe no longer than he believes me the imperial dolt which I 
have affected to seem, in order to deceive him ; fortunate that 
even so I can escape his cautionary anticipation of my displeas- 
ure, by avoiding to precipitate his measures of violence. But 
were this sudden storm of the crusade fairly passed over, the 
ungrateful Caesar, the boastful coward Achilles Tatius, and the 
bosom serpent Agelastes, shall know whether Alexius Comnenus 
has been born their dupe. When Greek meets Greek, comes 
the strife of subtlety, as well as the tug of war.” Thus saying, 
he resigned himself to the officers of his wardrobe, who pro- 
ceeded to ornament him as the solemnity required. 

“ I trust him not,” said Agelastes, the meaning of whose 
gestures and exclamations, we, in like manner, render into a 

connected meaning. “ I cannot and do not trust him he 

somewhat overacts his part. He has borne himself upon other 
occasions with the shrewd wit of his family the Comneni ; yet 
he now trusts to the effect of his trumpery lions upon such a 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


191 

shrewd people as the Franks and Normans, and seems to rely 
upon me for the character of men with whom he has been 
engaged in peace and war for many years. This can be but to 
gain my confidence ; for there were imperfect looks, and broken 
sentences, which seemed to say, ‘ Agelastes, the Emperor knows 
thee, and confides not in thee.’ Yet the plot is successful and 
undiscovered, as far as can be judged ; and were I to attempt 
to recede now, I were lost forever. A little time to carry on 
this intrigue with the Frank, when possibly, by the assistance 
of this gallant, Alexius shall exchange the crown for a cloister, 
or a still narrower abode ; and then, Agelastes, thou deservest 
to be blotted from the roll of philosophers, if thou canst not 
push out of the throne the conceited and luxurious Caesar, and 
reign in his stead, a second Marcus Antoninus, when the wis* 
dom of thy rule, long unfelt in a world which has been guided 
by tyrants and voluptuaries, shall soon obliterate recollection of 
the manner in which thy power was acquired. To work then 
— be active, and be cautious. The time requires it, and the 
prize deserves it.” 

While these thoughts passed through his mind, he arrayed 
himself, by the assistance of Diogenes, in a clean suit of that 
simple apparel in which he always frequented the court ; a garb 
as unlike that of a candidate for royalty, as it was a contrast 
to the magnificent robes with which Alexius was now investing 
himself. 

In their separate apartments, or dressing-rooms, the Count 
of Paris and his lady put on the best apparel which they had 
prepared to meet such a chance upon their journey. Even in 
France, Robert was seldom seen in the peaceful cap and sweep- 
ing mantle, whose high plumes and flowing folds were the garb 
of knights in times of peace. He was now arrayed in a 
splendid suit of armor, all except the head, which was bare 
otherwise than as covered by his curled locks. The rest of his 
person was sheathed in the complete mail of the time, richly in- 
laid with silver, which contrasted with the -azure in which the 
steel was damasked. His spurs were upon his heels — his 
sword was by his side, and his triangular shield was suspended 
round his neck, bearing, painted upon it, a number of fleurs-de- 
lis semees, as it is called, upon the field, being the origin of those 
lily flowers which after times reduced to three only ; and which 
were the terror of Europe, until they suffered so many reverses 
in our own time. 

The extreme height of Count Robert’s person adapted him 
for a garb, which had a tendency to make persons of a lower 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


192 

stature appear rather dwarfish and thick when arrayed cap-cl-pet. 
The features, with their self-collected composure, and noble 
contempt of whatever could have astounded or shaken an or- 
dinary mind, formed a well-fitted capital to the excellently pro- 
portioned and vigorous frame which they terminated. The 
Countess was in more peaceful attire ; but her robes were short 
and succinct, like those of one who might be called to hasty 
exercise. The upper part of her dress consisted of more than 
one tunic, sitting close to the body, while a skirt, descending 
from the girdle, and reaching to the ankles, embroidered ele- 
gantly but richly, completed an attire which a lady might have 
worn in much more modern times. Her tresses were covered 
with a light steel head-piece, though some of them, escaping, 
played round her face, and gave relief to those handsome 
features which might otherwise have seemed too formal, if 
closed entirely within the verge of steel. Over these under- 
garments was flung a rich velvet cloak of a deep green color, 
descending from the head, where a species of hood was loosely 
adjusted over the helmet, deeply laced upon its verges and 
seams, and so long as to sweep the ground behind. A dagger 
of rich materials ornamented a girdle of curious goldsmith’s 
work, and was the only offensive weapon which, notwithstand- 
ing her military occupation, she bore upon this occasion. 

The toilet — as modern times would say — of the Countess, 
was not nearly so soon ended as that of Count Robert, who 
occupied his time, as husbands of every period are apt to do, in 
little sub-acid complaints between jest and earnest, upon the 
dilatory nature of ladies, and the time which they lose in doff- 
ing and donning their garments. But when the Countess Bren- 
hilda came forth in the pride of loveliness, from the inner 
chamber where she had attired herself, her husband, who was 
still her lover, clasped her to his breast, and expressed his 
privilege by the kiss which he took as of right from a creature 
so beautiful. Chiding him for his folly, yet almost returning 
the kiss which she received, Brenhilda began now to wonder 
how they were to find their way to the presence of the 
Emperor. 

The query was soon solved, for a gentle knock at the door 
announced Agelastes, to whom, as best acquainted with the 
Frankish manners, had been committed, by the Emperor, the 
charge of introducing the noble strangers. A distant sound, 
like that of the roaring of a lion, or not unsimilar to a large 
and deep gong of modern times, intimated the commencement 
of the ceremonial. The black slaves upon guard, who, as hath 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


r 93 

been observed, were in small numbers, stood ranged in their 
state dresses of white and gold, bearing in one hand a naked 
sabre, and in the other a torch of white wax, which served to 
guide the Count and Countess through the passages that led to 
the interior of the palace, and to the most secret hall of 
audience. 

The door of this sanctum sanctorum was lower than usual, a 
simple stratagem devised by some superstitious officer of the 
Imperial household, to compel the lofty-crested Frank to lower 
his body, as he presented himself in the Imperial presence. 
Robert, when the door flew open, and he discovered in the 
background the Emperor seated upon his throne amidst a glare 
of light, which was broken and reflected in ten thousand folds 
by the jewels with which his vestments were covered, stopped 
short, and demanded the meaning of introducing him through 
so low an arch ? Agelastes pointed to the Emperor by way of 
shifting from himself a question which he could not have 
answered. The mute, to apologize for his silence, yawned, and 
showed the loss of his tongue. 

“ Holy Virgin ! ” said the Countess, “ what can these un- 
happy Africans have done, to have deserved a condemnation 
which involves so cruel a fate ? ” 

“ The hour of retribution is perhaps come,” said the Count, 
in a displeased tone, while Agelastes, with such hurry as time 
and place permitted, entered, making his prostrations and 
genuflections, little doubting that the Frank must follow him, 
and to do so must lower his body to the Emperor. The Count, 
however, in the height of displeasure at the trick which he con- 
ceived had been intended him, turned himself round, and 
entered the presence-chamber with his back purposely turned 
to the sovereign, and did not face Alexius until he reached the 
middle of the apartment, when he was joined by the Countess, 
who had made her approach in a more seemly manner. The 
Emperor, who had prepared to acknowledge the Count's ex- 
pected homage In the most gracious manner, found himself 
not even more unpleasantly circumstanced than when this 
uncompromising Frank had usurped the royal throne in the 
course of the day. 

The officers and nobles who stood around, though a very 
select number, were more numerous than usual, as the meeting 
was not held for counsel, but merely for state. These assumed 
such an appearance of mingled displeasure and confusion as 
might best suit with the perplexity of Alexius, while the wily 
features of the Norman-Italian, Bohemond of Tarentum, who 

I 3 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


194 

was also present, had a singular mixture of fantastical glee and 
derision. It is the misfortune of the weaker on such occasions, 
or at least the more timid, to be obliged to take the petty part 
of winking hard, as if not able to see what they cannot avenge. 

Alexius made the signal that the ceremonial of the grand 
reception should immediately commence. Instantly the lions 
of Solomon, which had been newly furbished, raised their 
heads, erected their manes, brandished their tails, until they 
excited the imagination of Count Robert, who, being already 
on fire at the circumstances of his reception, conceived the 
bellowing of these automata to be the actual annunciation of 
immediate assault. Whether the lions, whose forms he beheld, 
were actually lords of the forest, — whether they were mortals 
who had suffered transformation, whether they were productions 
of the skill of an artful juggler or profound naturalist, the 
Count neither knew nor cared. All that he thought of the 
danger was, that it was worthy of his courage ; nor did his 
heart permit him a moment's irresolution. He strode to the 
nearest lion, which seemed in the act of springing up, and 
said in a tone loud and formidable as its own, “ How now, 
dog ! ” At the same time he struck the figure with his clenched 
fist and steel gauntlet with so much force, that its head burst, 
and the steps and carpet of the throne were covered with 
wheels, springs, and other machinery, which had been the 
means of producing its mimic terrors. 

On this display of the real nature of the cause of his anger, 
Count Robert could not but feel a little ashamed of having 
given way to passion on such an occasion. He was still more 
confused when Bohemond, descending from his station near 
the Emperor, addressed him in the Frank language ; — “ You 
have done a gallant deed, truly, Count Robert, in freeing the 
court of Byzantium from an object of fear which has long been 
used to frighten peevish children and unruly barbarians ! ” 

Enthusiasm has no greater enemy than ridicule. “ Why, 
then,” said Count Robert, blushing deeply at the same time, 
“ did they exhibit its fantastic terrors to me ? I am neither 
child nor barbarian.” 

“ Address yourself to the Emperor, then, as an intelligent 
man,” answered Bohemond. “ Say something to him in excuse 
of your conduct, and show that our bravery has not entirely 
run away with our common sense. And hark you also, while I 
have a moment's speech of you, — do you and your wife heed- 
fully follow my example at supper ! ” These words were spoken 
with a significant tone and corresponding look. 


CO UNT ROBER T OF PARIS. I g S 

The opinion of Bohemond, from his long intercourse, both 
in peace and war, with the Grecian Emperor, gave him great 
influence with the other crusaders, and Count Robert yielded 
to his advice. He turned towards the Emperor, with some- 
thing liker an obeisance than he had hitherto paid. “ I crave 
your pardon,” he Said, “for breaking that gilded piece of page- 
antry ; but, in sooth, the wonders of sorcery, and the portents 
of accomplished and skilful jugglers, are so numerous in this 
country, that one does not clearly distinguish what is true from 
what is false, or what is real from what is illusory.” 

The Emperor, notwithstanding the presence of mind for 
which he was remarkable, and the courage in which he was 
not held by his countrymen to be deficient, received this 
apology somewhat awkwardly. Perhaps the rueful complai- 
sance with which he accepted the Count’s apology, might be 
best compared to that of a lady of the present day when an 
awkward guest has broken a valuable piece of china. He 
muttered something about the machines having been long pre- 
served in the Imperial family, as being made on the model of 
those which guarded the throne of the wise King of Israel ; to 
which the blunt plain-spoken Count expressed his doubt in 
reply, whether the wisest prince in the world ever condescended 
to frighten his subjects or guests by the mimic roarings of a 
wooden lion. “ If,” said he, “ I too hastily took it for a living 
creature, I have had the worst, by damaging my excellent 
gauntlet in dashing to pieces its timber skull.” 

The Emperor, after a little more had been said, chiefly on 
the same subject, proposed that they should pass to the ban- 
quet-room. Marshalled, accordingly, by the grand sewer of the 
Imperial table, and attended by all present, excepting the Em- 
peror and the immediate members of his family, the Frankish 
guests were guided through a labyrinth of apartments, each of 
which was filled with wonders of nature and art, calculated to 
enhance their opinion of the wealth and grandeur which had 
assembled together so much that was wonderful. Their pas- 
sage being necessarily slow and interrupted, gave the Emperor 
time to change his dress, according to the ritual of his court, 
which did not permit his appearing twice in the same vesture 
before the same spectators. He took the opportunity to sum- 
mon Agelastes into his presence, and, that their conference 
might be secret, he used, in assisting his toilet, the agency of 
some of the mutes destined for the services of the interior. 

The temper of Alexius Comnenus was considerably moved, 
although it was one of the peculiarities of his situation to be 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


196 

ever under the necessity of disguisng the emotions of his mind, 
and of effecting, in presence of his subjects, superiority to 
human passion, which he was far from feeling. It was there- 
fore with gravity, and even reprehension, that he asked, “ By 
whose error it was that the wily Bohemond, half-Italian, and 
half-Norman, was present at this interview ? Surely, if there be 
one in the crusading army likely to conduct that foolish youth 
and his wife behind the scenes of the exhibition by which we 
hoped to impose upon them, the Count of Tarentum, as he en- 
titles himself, is that person.” 

“ It was that old man,” said Agelastes “ (if I may reply 
and live), Michael Cantacuzene, who deemed that his presence 
was peculiarly desired ; but he returns to the camp this very 
night.” 

“ Yes,” said Alexius, to inform Godfrey, and the rest of 
the crusaders, that one of the boldest and most highly esteemed 
of their number is left, with his wife, a hostage in our Imperial 
city, and to bring back, perhaps an alternative of instant war, 
unless they are delivered up ! ” 

“ If it is your Imperial Highness’s will to think so,” said 
Agelastes, “you can suffer Count Robert and his wife to return 
to the camp with the Italian-Norman.” 

“ What ? ” answered the Emperor, “ and so lose all the fruits 
of an enterprise, the preparations for which have already cost 
us so much in actual expense ; and, were our heart made of 
the same stuff with that of ordinary mortals, would have cost 
us so much more in vexation and anxiety ? No, no ; issue 
warning to the crusaders, who are still on the hither side, that 
farther rendering of homage is dispensed with, and that they 
repair to the quays, on the banks of the Bosphorus, by peep of 
light to-morrow. Let our admiral, as he values his head, pass 
every man of them over to the farther side before noon. Let 
there be largesses, a princely banquet on the farther bank — all 
that may increase their anxiety to pass. Then, Agelastes, we 
will trust to ourselves to meet this additional danger, either by 
bribing the venality of Bohemond, or by bidding defiance to 
the crusaders. Their forces are scattered, and the chief of 
them, with the leaders themselves, are all now — or by far the 
greater part — on the east side of the Bosphorus. — And now to 
the banquet ! seeing that the change of dress has been made 
sufficient to answer the statutes of the household ; since our 
ancestors chose to make rules for exhibiting us to our subjects, 
as priests exhibit their images at their shrines ! ” 

“ Under grant of life,” said Agelastes, “ it was not done irv 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*97 

considerately, but in order that the Emperor, ruled ever by the 
same laws from father to son, might ever be regarded as some- 
thing beyond the common laws of humanity — the divine image 
of a saint, therefore, rather than a human being.” 

“ We know it, good Agelastes,” answered the Emperor, with 
a smile, “ and we are also aware, that many of our subjects, 
like the worshippers of Bel in holy writ, treat us sc far as an 
image, as to assist us in devouring the revenues of our prov- 
inces, which are gathered in our name, and for our use. These 
things we now only touch lightly, the time not suiting them.” 

Alexius left the secret council accordingly, after the order 
for the passage of the crusaders had been written out and 
subscribed in due form and in the sacred ink of the Imperial 
chancery. 

Meantime, the rest of the company had arrived in a hall, 
which, like the other apartments in the palace, was most taste- 
fully as well as gorgeously fitted up, except that a table, which 
presented a princely banquet, might have been deemed faulty 
in this respect, that the dishes, which were most splendid, both 
in the materials of which they were composed, and in the 
viands which they held, were elevated by means of feet, so as 
to be upon a level with female guests as they sat, and with men 
as they lay recumbent at the banquet which it offered. 

Around stood a number of black slaves richly attired, while 
the grand sewer, Michael Cantacuzene, arranged the strangers 
with his golden wand, and conveyed orders to them, by signs, 
that all should remain standing around the table, until a signal 
should be given. 

The upper end of the board, thus furnished, and thus sur- 
rounded, was hidden by a curtain of muslin and silver, which 
fell from the top of the arch under which the upper part seemed 
to pass. On this curtain the sewer kept a wary eye ; and when 
he observed it slightly shake, he waved his wand of office, and 
all expected the result. 

As if self-moved, the mystic curtain arose, and discovered 
behind it a throne eight steps higher than the end of the table, 
decorated in the most magnificent manner, and having placed 
before it a small table of ivory inlaid with silver, behind which 
was seated Alexius Comnenus, in a dress entirely different from 
what he had worn in the course of the day, and so much more 
gorgeous than his former vestments, that it seemed not unnat- 
ural that his subjects should prostrate themselves before a 
figure so splendid. His wife, his daughter, and his son-in-law 
the Caesar, stood behind him with faces bent to the ground, and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


198 

it was with deep humility, that, descending from the throne at 
the Emperor’s command, they mingled with the guests of the 
lower table, and, exalted as they were, proceeded to the festive 
board at the signal of the grand sewer. So that they could not 
be said to partake of the repast with the Emperor, nor to be 
placed at the Imperial table, although they supped in his pres- 
ence, and were encouraged by his repeated request to them to 
make good cheer. No dishes presented at the lower table were 
offered at the higher ; but wines, and more delicate sorts of 
food, which arose before the Emperor as if by magic, and seemed 
designed for his own proper use, were repeatedly sent, by his 
special directions, to one or other of the guests whom Alexius 
delighted to honor — among these the Franks being particularly 
distinguished. 

The behavior of Bohemond was on this occasion particu- 
larly remarkable. 

Count Robert, who kept an eye upon him, both for his re- 
cent words, and owing to an expressive look which he once or 
twice darted towards him, observed, that in no liquors or food, 
not even those sent from the Emperor’s own table, did this 
astucious prince choose to indulge. A piece of bread, taken 
from the canister at random, and a glass of pure water, was the 
only refreshment of which he was pleased to partake. His 
alleged excuse was, the veneration due to the Holy Festival of 
the Advent, which chanced to occur that very night, and which 
both the Greek and Latin rule agree to hold sacred. 

“ I had not expected this of you, Sir Bohemond,” said the 
Emperor, “ that you should have refused my personal hospital- 
ity, at my own board, on the very day on which you honored 
me by entering into my service as vassal for the principality of 
Antioch.” 

“ Antioch is not yet conquered,” said Sir Bohemond ; “ and 
conscience, dread sovereign, must always have its exceptions, 
in whatever temporal contracts we may engage.” 

“Come, gentle Count,” said the Emperor, who . obviously 
regarded Bohemond’s inhospitable humor as something arising 
more from suspicion than devotion, “ we invite, though it is not 
our custom, our children, our noble guests, and our principal 
officers here present, to a general carouse. Fill the cups called 
the Nine Muses ! let them be brimful of the w r ine which is said 
to be sacred to the Imperial lips ! ” 

At the Emperor’s command the cups were filled ; they were 
of pure gold, and there was richly engraved upon each the 
effigy of the Muse to whom it was dedicated. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


1 99 


“ You at least,” said the Emperor, “ my gentle Count 
Robert, you and your lovely lady will not have any scruple to 
pledge your Imperial host ? ” 

“ If that scruple is to imply suspicion of the provision with 
which we are here served, I disdain to nourish such,” said 
Count Robert. “ If it is a sin which I commit by tasting wine 
to-night, it is a venial one ; nor shall I greatly augment my 
load by carrying it, with the rest of my trespasses, to the next 
confessional.” 

“ Will you then, Prince Bohemond, not be ruled by the con- 
duct of your friend ? ” said the Emperor. 

“Methinks,” replied the Norman-Italian, “ my friend might 
have done better to have been ruled by mine ; but be it as his 
wisdom pleases. The flavor of such exquisite wine is sufficient 
forme.” 

So saying, he emptied the wine into another goblet, and 
seemed alternately to admire the carving of the cup, and the 
flavor of what it had lately contained. 

“ You are right, Sir Bohemond,” said the Emperor ; “ the 
fabric of that cup is beautiful ; it was done by one of the an- 
cient gravers of Greece. The boasted cup of Nestor, which 
Homer has handed down to us, was a good deal larger perhaps, 
but neither equalled these in the value of the material, nor the 
exquisite beauty of the workmanship. Let each one, therefore, 
of my stranger guests, accept of the cup which he either has or 
might have drunk out of, as a recollection of me ; and may the 
expedition against the infidels be as propitious as their confi- 
dence and courage deserve ! ” 

“ If I accept your gift, mighty Emperor,” said Bohemond, 
“ it is only to atone for the apparent discourtesy, when my de- 
votion compels me to decline your Imperial pledge, and to 
show you that we part on the most intimate terms of friend- 
ship.” 

So saying, he bowed deeply to the Emperor, who answered 
him with a smile, into which was thrown a considerable portion 
of sarcastic expression. 

“And I,” said the Count of Paris, “having taken upon my 
conscience the fault of meeting your Imperial pledge, may 
stand excused from incurring the blame of aiding to dismantle 
your table of these curious drinking-cups. We empty them to 
your health, and we cannot in any other respect profit by 
them.” 

“But Prince Bohemond can,” said the Emperor ; “ to whose 
quarters they shall be carried, sanctioned by your generous 


200 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


use. And we have still a set for you, and for your lovely 
Countess, equal to that of the Graces, though no longer match- 
ing in number the nymphs of Parnassus. — The evening bell 
rings, and calls us to remember the hour of rest, that we may 
be ready to meet the labors of to-morrow.” 

The party then broke up for the evening. Bohemond left 
the palace that night, not forgetting the Muses, of whom he 
was not in general a devotee. The result was, as the wily 
Greek had intended, that he had established between Bohe- 
mond and the Count, not indeed a quarrel, but a kind of dif- 
ference of opinion ; Bohemond feeling that the fiery Count of 
Paris must think his conduct sordid and avaricious, while 
Count Robert was far less inclined than before to rely on him 
as a counsellor. 


CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon ! 

Samson Agonistes. 

The Count of Paris and his lady were that night lodged in 
the Imperial Palace of the Blacquernal. Their apartments 
were contiguous, but the communication between them was cut 
off for the night by the mutual door being locked and barred. 
They marvelled somewhat at this precaution. The observance, 
however, of the festival of the church, was pleaded as an ad- 
missible, and not unnatural excuse for this extraordinary cir- 
cumstance. Neither the Count nor his lady entertained, it may 
be believed, the slightest personal fear for anything which 
could happen to them. Their attendants, Marcian and Agatha, 
having assisted their master and mistress in the performance 
of their usual offices, left them, in order to seek the places of 
repose assigned to them among persons of their degree. 

The preceding day had been one of excitation, and of much 
bustle and interest ; perhaps, also, the wine, sacred to the Im- 
perial lips, of which Count Robert had taken a single, indeed, 
but a deep draught, was more potent than the delicate and 
high-flavored juice of the Gascogne grape, to which he was 
accustomed ; at any rate, it seemed to him that, from the time 
he felt that he had slept, daylight ought to have been broad in 
his chamber when he awaked, and yet it was still darkness 
almost palpable. Somewhat surprised, he gazed eagerly around, 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


201 


but could discern nothing, except two balls of red light which 
shone from among the darkness with a self-emitted brilliancy, 
like the eyes of a wild animal while it glares upon its prey. 
The Count started from bed to put on his armor, a necessary 
precaution if what he saw should really be a wild creature and 
at liberty ; but the instant he stirred, a deep growl was uttered, 
such as the Count had never heard, but which might be com- 
pared to the sound of a thousand monsters at once ; and, as 
the symphony, was heard the clash of iron chains, and the 
springing of a monstrous creature towards the bedside, which 
appeared, however, to be withheld by some fastening from at- 
taining the end of its bound. The roars which it uttered now 
ran thick on each other. They were most tremendous, and 
must have been heard throughout the whole palace. The crea- 
ture seemed to gather itself many yards nearer to the bed than 
by its glaring eyeballs it appeared at first to be stationed, and 
how much nearer, or what degree of motion, might place him 
within the monster’s reach, the Count was totally uncertain. 
Its breathing was even heard, and Count Eobert thought he 
felt the heat of its respiration, while his defenceless limbs might 
not be two yards distant from the fangs which he heard grind- 
ing against each other, and the claws which tore up fragments 
of wood from the oaken floor. The Count of Paris was one of 
the bravest men who lived in a time when bravery was the uni- 
versal property of all who claimed a drop of noble blood, and 
the knight was a descendant of Charlemagne. He was, how- 
ever, a man, and therefore cannot be said to have endured un- 
appalled a sense of danger so unexpected and so extraordinary. 
But his was not a sudden alarm or panic, it was a calm sense 
of extreme peril, qualified by a resolution to exert his faculties 
to the uttermost, to save his life if it were possible. He with- 
drew himself within the bed, no longer a place of rest, being 
thus a few feet farther from the two glaring eyeballs which re- 
mained so closely fixed upon him, that, in spite of his courage, 
nature painfully suggested the bitter imagination of his limbs 
being mangled and torn, and churned with their life-blood, in 
the jaws of some monstrous beast of prey. One saving thought 
alone presented itself — this might be a trial, an experiment of 
the philosopher Agelastes, or of the Emperor his master, for 
the purpose of proving the courage of which the Christians 
vaunted so highly, and punishing the thoughtless insult which 
the Count had been unadvised enough to put upon the Emperor 
the preceding day. 

“Well is it said,” he reflected in his agony, “beard not the 


302 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


lion in his den ! Perhaps even now some base slave deliberates 
whether I have yet tasted enough of the preliminary agonies of 
death, and whether he shall yet slip the chain which keeps the 
savage from doing his work. But, come death when it will, it 
shall never be said that Court Robert was heard to receive it 
with prayers for compassion, or with cries of pain or terror/' 
He turned his face to the wall, and waited, with a strong 
mental exertion, the death which he conceived to be fast ap- 
proaching. 

His first feelings had been unavoidably of a selfish nature. 
The danger was too instant, and of a description too horrible, 
to admit of any which involved a more comprehensive view of 
his calamity ; and other reflections of a more distant kind, were 
at first swallowed up in the all-engrossing thought of imme- 
diate death. But, as his ideas became clearer, the safety of his 
Countess rushed upon his mind — what might she now be suffer- 
ing ! and, while he was subjected to a trial so extraordinary, 
for what were her weaker frame and female courage reserved ? 
Was she still within a few yards of him, as when he lay down 
the last night? or had the barbarians, who had devised for 
him a scene so cruel, availed themselves of his and his lady’s 
incautious confidence to inflict upon her some villany of the 
same kind, or even yet more perfidious ? Did she sleep or 
wake, or could she sleep within the close hearing of that hor- 
rible cry, which shook all around ? He resolved to utter her 
name, warning her, if possible, to be upon her guard, and to 
answer without venturing rashly into the apartment which con- 
tained a guest so horribly perilous. 

He uttered, therefore, his wife's name, but in trembling 
accents, as if he had been afraid of the savage beast over- 
hearing him. 

“ Brenhilda ! Brenhilda ! — there is danger — awake, and 
speak to me, but do not arise.” There Was no answer. — 
“ What am I become,” he said to himself, “ that I call upon 
Brenhilda of Aspramonte, like a child on its sleeping nurse, 
and all because there is a wild-cat in the same room with me ? 
Shame on thee, Count of Paris ! Let thy arms be rent, and 
thy spurs be hacked from thy heels ! — What ho ! ” he cried 
aloud, but still with a tremulous voice, “ Brenhilda, we are 
beset, the foe are upon us ! — Answer me, but stir not.” 

A deep growl from the monster which garrisoned his apart- 
ment was the only answer. The sound seemed to say, “ Thou 
hast no hope ! ” and it ran to the knight’s bosom as the genuine 
expression of despair. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


203 

“ Perhaps, however, I am still too cold in making my misery 
known. What ho ! my love ! Brenhilda ! ” 

A voice, hollow and disconsolate as that which might have 
served an inhabitant of the grave, answered as if from a dis- 
tance. “ What disconsolate wretch art thou, who expectest that 
the living can answer thee from the habitations of the dead ? ” 
“ I am a Christian man, a free noble of the kingdom of 
France,” answered the Count. “ Yesterday the captain of five 
hundred men, the bravest in France — the bravest, that is, who 
breathe mortal air — and I am here without a glimpse of light, 
to direct me how to avoid the corner in which lies a wild tiger- 
cat, prompt to spring upon and to devour me.” 

“ Thou art an example,” replied the voice, “ and wilt not 
long be the last, of the changes of fortune. I, who am now 
suffering in my third year, was that mighty Ursel, who rivalled 
Alexius Comnenus for the crown of Greece, was betrayed by 
my confederates, and being deprived of that eyesight which is 
the chief blessing of humanity, I inhabit these vaults, no dis- 
tant neighbor of the wild animals by whom they are sometimes 
occupied, and whose cries of joy I hear when unfortunate victims 
like thyself are delivered up to their fury.” 

“ Didst thou not then hear,” said Count Robert, in return, 
“ a warlike guest and his bride conducted hither last night, 
with sounds as it might seem of bridal music ? — O Brenhilda ! 
hast thou, so young^so beautiful — been so treacherously done 
to death by means so unutterably horrible ? ” 

“ Think not,” answered Ursel, as the voice had called its 
owner, “that the Greeks pamper their wild beasts on such 
lordly fare. For their enemies, which term includes not only 
all that are really such, but all those whom they fear or hate, 
they have dungeons whose locks never revolve ; hot instru- 
ments of steel, to sear the eyeballs in the head : lions and 
tigers, when it pleases them to make a speedy end of their 
captives — but these are only for the male prisoners. While for 
the women — if they be young and beautiful, the princes of the 
land have places in their bed and bower ; nor are they em- 
ployed, like the captives of Agamemnon’s host, to draw water 
from an Argive spring, but are admired and adored by those 
whom fate has made the lords of their destiny.” 

“ Such shall never be the doom of Brenhilda ! ” exclaimed 
Count Robert ; “ her husband still lives to assist her, and 
should he die, she knows well how to follow him without leav« 
ing a blot in the epitaph of either.” 

The captive did not immediately reply, and a short pause 


204 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


ensued, which was broken by Ursel’s voice. “ Stranger,” he 
said, “ what noise is that I hear ? ” 

“ Nay, I hear nothing,” said Count Robert. 

“ But I do,” said Ursel. “ The cruel deprivation of my 
eyesight renders my other senses more acute.” 

“ Disquiet not thyself about the matter, fellow-prisoner,” 
answered the Count, “ but wait the event in silence.” 

Suddenly a light arose in the apartment, lurid, red, and 
smoky. The knight had bethought him of a flint and match 
which he usually carried about him, and with as little noise as 
possible had lighted the torch by the bedside ; this he instantly 
applied to the curtains of the bed, which, being of thin muslin, 
were in a moment in flames. The knight sprang, at the same 
instant, from his bed. The tiger, for such it was, terrified at 
the flame, leaped backwards as far as his chain would permit, 
heedless of anything save this new object of terror. Count 
Robert upon this seized on a massive wooden stool, which was 
the only offensive weapon on which he could lay his hand, and, 
marking at those eyes which now reflected the blaze of fire, 
and which had recently seemed so appalling, he discharged 
against them this fragment of ponderous oak, with a force 
which less resembled human strength than the impetus with 
which an engine hurls a stone. He had employed his instant 
of time so well, and his aim was so true, that the missile went 
right to the mark and with incredible force. The skull of the 
tiger, which might be, perhaps, somewhat exaggerated if de- 
scribed as being of the very largest size, was fractured by the 
blow, and with the assistance of his dagger, which had fortu- 
nately been left with him, the French Count despatched the 
monster, and had the satisfaction to see him grin his last, and 
roll, in the agony of death, those eyes which were lately so 
formidable. 

Looking around him, he discovered, by the light of the fire 
which he had raised, that the apartment in which he now lay 
was different from that in which he had gone to bed overnight ; 
nor could there be a stronger contrast between the furniture of 
both, than the flickering half-burnt remains of the thin muslin 
curtains, and the strong, bare, dungeon-looking walls of the 
room itself, or the very serviceable wooden stool, of which he 
had made such good use. 

The knight had no leisure to form conclusions upon such a 
subject. He hastily extinguished the fire, which had, indeed, 
nothing that it could lay hold of, and proceeded, by the light 
of the flambeau, to examine the apartment, and its means of 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


205 

entrance. It is scarce necessary to say, that he saw no com- 
munication with the room of Brenhilda, which convinced him 
that they had been separated the evening before under pre- 
tence of devotional scruples, in order to accomplish some most 
villanous design upon one or both of them. His own part of 
the night’s adventure we have already seen, and success, so far, 
over so formidable a danger, gave him a trembling hope that 
Brenhilda, by her own worth and valor, would be able to 
defend herself against all attacks of fraud or force, until he 
could find his way to her rescue. “ I should have paid more 
regard,” he said, “ to Bohemond’s caution last night, who, I 
think, intimated to me as plainly as if he had spoken it in 
direct terms, that that same cup of wine was a drugged potion. 
But then, fie upon him for an avaricious hound ! ” how was it 
possible I should think he suspected any such thing, when he 
spoke not out like a man, but, for sheer coldness of heart, or 
base self-interest, suffered me to run the risk of being poisoned 
by the wily despot ? ” 

Here he heard a voice from the same quarter as before. 
“ Ho, there ! Ho, stranger ! Do you live, or have you been 
murdered ? What means this stifling smell of smoke ? For 
God’s sake, answer him who can receive no information from 
eyes, closed, alas, forever ! ” 

“ I am at liberty,” said the Count, “ and the monster des- 
tined to devour me has groaned its last. I would, my friend 
Ursel, since such is thy name, thou hadst the advantage of 
thine eyes, to have borne witness to yonder combat ; it had 
been worth thy while, though thou shouldst have lost them a 
minute afterwards, and it would have greatly advantaged who- 
ever shall have the task of compiling my history.” 

While he gave a thought to that vanity which strongly ruled 
him, he lost no time in seeking some mode of escape from the 
dungeon, for by that means only might he hope to recover his 
Countess. At last he found an entrance in the wall, but it 
was strongly locked and bolted. • “ I have found the passage,” 
he called out ; “ and its direction is the same in which thy voice 
is heard — But how shall I undo the door ? ” 

“ I’ll teach thee that secret,” said Ursel. “ I would I could 
as easily unlock each bolt that withholds us from the open air ; 
but, as for thy seclusion within the dungeon, heave up the door 
by main strength, and thou shalt lift the locks to a place where, 
pushing then the door from thee, the fastenings will find a grooved 
passage in the wall, and the door itself will open. Would that 
I could indeed see thee, not only because, being a gallant man, 


2o6 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


thou must be a goodly sight, but also because I should thereby 
know that I was not caverned in darkness forever. 

While he spoke thus, the Count made a bundle of his 
armor, from which he missed nothing except his sword, 
Tranchefer, and then proceeded to try what efforts he could 
make, according to the blind man’s instructions, to open the 
door of his prison-house. Pushing in a direct line was, he 
soon found, attended with no effect ; but when he applied his 
gigantic strength, and raised the door as high as it would go, 
he had the satisfaction to find that the bolts yielded, though 
reluctantly. A space had been cut so as to allow them to 
move out of the socket into which they had been forced ; and / 
without the turn of a key, but by a powerful thrust forwards, a 
small passage was left open. The knight entered, bearing his 
armor in his hand. 

“ I hear thee,” said Ursel, “ O stranger ! and am aware 
thou art come' into my place of captivity. For three years have 
I been employed in cutting these grooves, corresponding to the 
sockets which hold these iron bolts, and preserving the knowl- 
edge of the secret from the prison-keepers. Twenty such bolts, 
perhaps, must be sawn through, ere my steps shall approach 
the upper air. What prospect is there that I shall have strength 
of mind sufficient to continue the task ? Yet, credit me, noble 
stranger, I rejoice in having been thus far aiding to thy deliver- 
ance ; for if Heaven blesses not, in any farther degree, our 
aspirations after freedom, we may still be a comfort to each 
other, while tyranny permits our mutual life.” 

Count Robert looked around, and shuddered that a human 
being should talk of anything approaching to comfort, con- 
nected with his residence in what seemed a living tomb. 
Ursel’s dungeon was not above twelve feet square, vaulted in 
the roof, and strongly built in the walls by stones which the 
chisel had morticed closely together. A bed, a coarse foot- 
stool, like that which Robert had just launched at the head of 
the tiger, and a table of equally massive materials, were its 
only articles of furniture. On a long stone, above the bed, 
were these few but terrible words : — “ Zedekias Ursel, impris- 
oned here on the Ides of March, a.d. . Died and interred 

on the spot ” — A blank was left for filling up the period. The 
figure of the captive could hardly be discerned amid the wild- 
ness of his dress and dishabille. The hair of his head, uncut 
and uncombed, descended in elf-locks, and mingled with a beard 
of extravagant length. 

“ Look on me,” said the captive, “ and rejoice that thou 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


207 

canst yet see the wretched condition to which iron-hearted 
tyranny can reduce a fellow-creature, both in mortal existence 
and in future hope.” 

“ Was it thou,” said Count Robert, whose blood ran cold 
in his veins, “ that hadst the heart to spend thy time in sawing 
through the blocks of stone by which these bolts are secured ? ” 

“Alas ! ” said Ursel, “ what could a blind man do? Busy 
I must be, if I would preserve my senses. Great as the labor 
was, it was to me the task of three years ; nor can you wonder 
that I should have devoted to it my whole time, when I had 
no other means of occupying it. Perhaps, and most likely, 
my dungeon does not admit the distinction of day and night ; 
but a distant cathedral clock told me how hour after hour fled 
away, and found me expending them in rubbing one stone 
against another. But when the door gave way, I found I had 
only cut an access into a prison more strong than that which 
held me. I rejoice, nevertheless, since it has brought us 
together, given thee an entrance to my dungeon, and me a com- 
panion in my misery.” 

“ Think better than that,” said Count Robert ; “ think of 
liberty — think of revenge ! I cannot believe such unjust 
treachery will end successfully, else needs must I say, the 
heavens are less just than priests tell us of. How art thou 
supplied with food in this dungeon of thine! ” 

“ A warder,” said Ursel, “ and who, I think, understands 
not the Greek language — at least he never either answers or 
addresses me — brings a loaf and a pitcher of water, enough 
to supply my miserable life till two days are past. - I must, 
therefore, pray that you will retire for a space into the next 
prison, so that the warder may have no means of knowing that 
we can hold correspondence together.” 

“ I see not,” said Count Robert, “ by what access the bar- 
barian, if he is one, can enter my dungeon without passing 
through yours ; but no matter, I will retire into the inner or 
outer room, whichever it happens to be, and be thou then well 
aware that the warder will have some one to grapple with ere 
he leaves his prison-work to-day. Meanwhile, think thyself 
dumb as thou art blind, and be assured that the offer of freedom 
itself would not induce me to desert the cause of a companion 
in adversity.” 

“ Alas ! ” said the old man, “ I listen to thy promises as I 
should to those of the morning gale, which tells me that the 
sun is about to rise, although I know that I at least shall never 
behold it. Thou art one of those wild and undespairing 


208 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


knights, whom for so many years the west of Europe hath sent 
forth to attempt impossibilities, and from thee, therefore, I can 
only hope for such a fabric of relief as an idle boy would blow 
out of soap bubbles.” 

“ Think better of us, old man,” said Count Robert, retir- 
ing ; “ at least let me die with my blood warm, and believing 
it possible for me to be once more united to my beloved 
Brenhilda.” 

So saying, he retired into his own cell, and replaced the 
door, so that the operations of Ursel, which indeed were only 
such as three years’ solitude could have achieved, should escape 
observation when again visited by the warder. “ It is ill luck,” 
said he when once more within his own prison — for that in which 
the tiger had been secured, he instinctively concluded to be 
destined for him — “ It is ill luck that I had not found a young 
and able fellow-captive, instead of one decrepit by imprison- 
ment, blind, and broken down past exertion. But God’s will 
be done ! I will not leave behind me the poor wretch whom I 
have found in such a condition, though he is perfectly unable 
to assist me in accomplishing my escape, and is rather more 
likely to retard it. Meantime, before we put out the torch, let 
us see, if by close examination we can discover any door in the 
wall save that to the blind man’s dungeon. If not, I much 
suspect that my descent has been made through the roof. That 
cup of wine — that Muse as they called it, had a taste more 
like medicine than merry companion’s pledge.” 

He began accordingly a strict survey of the walls, which he 
resolved to conclude by extinguishing the torch, that he might 
take the person who should enter his dungeon darkling and by 
surprise. For a similar reason, he dragged into the darkest 
corner the carcass of the tiger, and covered it with the remains 
of the bed-clothes, swearing at the same time, that a half tiger 
should be his crest in future, if he had the fortune, which his 
bold heart would not suffer him to doubt, of getting through 
the present danger. “ Blit,” he added, “ if these necromantic 
vassals of hell shall raise the devil upon me, what shall I do 
then ? And so great is the chance, that methinks I would fain 
dispense with extinguishing the flambeau. Yet it is childish 
for one dubbed in the chapel of Our Lady of the Broken Lances, 
to make much difference between a light room and a dark one. 
Let them come, as many fiends as the cell can hold, and we 
shall see if we receive them not as becomes a Christian knight ; 
and surely, Our Lady, to whom I was ever a true votary, will 
hold it an acceptable sacrifice that I tore myself from my 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


209 

Brenhilda, even for a single moment, in honor of her advent, 
and thus led the way for our woeful separation. Fiends ! I 
defy ye in the body as in the spirit, and I retain the remains of 
this flambeau until some more convenient opportunity.” He 
dashed it against the wall as he spoke, and then quietly sat 
down in a corner, to watch what should next happen. 

Thought after thought chased each other through his mind. 
His confidence in his wife’s fidelity, and his trust in her uncom- 
mon strength and activity, were the greatest comforts which 
he had ; nor could her danger present itself to him in any shape 
so terrible, but that he found consolation in these reflections : 
“ She is pure,” he said, “ as the dew of heaven, and heaven 
will not abandon its own ” 


CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 


Strange ape of man ! who loathes thee while he scorns thee ; 

Half a reproach to us and half a jest. 

What fancies can be ours ere we have pleasure 
In viewing our own form, our pride and passions, 

Reflected in a shape grotesque as thine ! 

Anonymous. 

Count Robert of Paris having ensconced himself behind 
the ruins of the bed, so that he could not well be observed, 
unless a strong light was at once flung upon the place of his 
retreat, waited with anxiety how and in what manner the 
warder of the dungeon, charged with the task of bringing food 
to the prisoners, should make himself visible ; nor was it 
long ere symptoms of his approach began to be heard and 
observed. 

A light was partially seen, as from a trap-door opening in 
the roof, and a voice was heard to utter these words in Anglo- 
Saxon, “ Leap, sirrah ; come, no delay ; leap, my good Sylvan, 
show your honor’s activity.” A strange chuckling hoarse voice, 
in a language totally unintelligible to Count Robert, was heard 
to respond, as if disputing the orders which were received. 

“What, sir,” said his companion, “you must contest the 
point, must you ? Nay, if thou art so lazy, I must give your 
honor a ladder, and perhaps a kick to hasten your journey.” 
Something, then, of very great size, in the form of a human 
being, jumped down from the trap-door, though the height might 

14 


210 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


be above fourteen feet. This figure was gigantic, being up- 
wards of seven feet high. In its left hand it held a torch, and 
in its right a skein of fine silk, which, unwinding itself as it 
descended, remained unbroken, though it was easy to conceive 
it could not have afforded a creature so large any support in 
his descent from the roof. He alighted with perfect safety and 
activity upon his feet, and, as if rebounding from the floor, he 
sprung upwards again, so as almost to touch the roof. In this 
last gambaud the torch which he bore was extinguished ; but 
this extraordinary warder whirled it round his head with in- 
finite velocity, so that it again ignited. The bearer, who ap- 
peared to intend the accomplishment of this object, endeavored 
to satisfy himself that it was really attained by approaching, 
as if cautiously, its left hand to the flame of the torch. This 
practical experiment seemed attended with consequences which 
the creature had not expected, for it howled with pain, shaking 
the burnt hand, and chattering as if bemoaning itself. 

“Take heed there, Sylvanus ! ” said the same voice in 
Anglo-Saxon, and in a tone of rebuke. “ Ho, there ! mind thy 
duty, Sylvan ! • Carry food to the blind man, and stand not 
there to play thyself, lest I trust thee not again alone on such 
an errand ! ” 

The creature — for it would have been rash to have termed 
it a man — turning its eye upwards to the place from whence 
the voice came, answered with a dreadful grin and shaking of 
its fist, yet presently began to undo a parcel, and rummage in 
the pockets of a sort of jerkin and pantaloons which it wore, 
seeking, it appeared, a bunch of keys, which at length it pro- 
duced, while it took from the pocket a loaf of bread. Heating 
the stone of the wall, it affixed the torch to it by a piece of wax, 
and then cautiously looked out for the entrance to the old 
man’s dungeon, which it opened with a key selected from the 
bunch. Within the passage it seemed to look for and discover 
the handle of a pump, at which it filled a pitcher that it bore, 
and bringing back the fragments of the former loaf, and re- 
mains of the pitcher of water, it ate a little, as if it were in 
sport, and very soon, making a frightful grimace, flung the 
fragments away. The Count of Paris, in the mean while, 
watched anxiously the proceedings of this unknown animal. 
His first thought was, that the creature, whose limbs were so 
much larger than humanity, whose grimaces were so frightful, 
and whose activity seemed supernatural, could be no other than 
the Devil himself, or some of his imps, whose situation and 
office in those gloomy regions seemed by no means hard to 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


211 


conjecture/ The human voice, however, which he had heard, 
was less that of a necromancer conjuring a fiend than that of a 
person giving commands to a wild animal, over whom he had, 
by training, obtained a great superiority. 

“ A shame on it,” said the Count, “ if I suffer a common 
jackanapes, — for such I take this devil-seeming beast to be, 
although twice as large as any of its fellows whom I have ever 
seen, — to throw an obstacle in the way of my obtaining day- 
light and freedom ! Let us but watch, and the chance is that 
we make that furry gentleman our guide to the upper regions.” 

Meantime the creature, which rummaged about everywhere, 
at length discovered the body of the tiger, — touched it, stirred 
it, with many strange motions, and seemed to lament and 
wonder at its death. At once it seemed struck with the idea 
that some one must have slain it, and Count Robert had the 
mortification to see it once more select the key, and spring 
towards the door of Ursel’s prison with such alacrity, that had 
his intention been to strangle him, it would have accomplished 
its purpose before the interference of Count Robert could have 
prevented its revenge taking place. Apparently, however, it 
reflected that, for reasons which seemed satisfactory, the death 
of the tiger could not be caused by the unfortunate Ursel, but 
had been accomplished by some one concealed within the outer 
prison. 

Slowly grumbling, therefore, and chattering to itself, and 
peeping anxiously into every corner, the tremendous creature, 
so like, yet so very unlike, to the human form, came stealing 
along the walls, moving whatever he thought could seclude a 
man from his observation. Its extended legs and arms were 
protruded forward with great strides, and its sharp eyes, on the 
watch to discover the object of its search, kept prying, with 
the assistance of the torch, into every corner. 

Considering the vicinity of Alexius’s collection of animals, 
the reader, by this time, can have little doubt that the creature 
in question, whose appearance seemed to the Count of Paris so 
very problematical, was a specimen of that gigantic species of 
ape — if it is not indeed some animal more nearly allied to our- 
selves — to which, I believe, naturalists have given the name of 
the Ourang Outang. This creature differs from the rest of its 
fraternity, in being comparatively more docile and serviceable ; 
and though possessing the power of imitation which is common 
to the whole race, yet making use of it less in mere mockery, 
than in the desire of improvement and instruction perfectly 
unknown to his brethren. The aptitude which it possesses of 


212 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


acquiring information is surprisingly great, and probably, if 
placed in a favorable situation, it might admit of being domes- 
ticated in a considerable degree ; but such advantages the 
ardor of scientific curiosity has never afforded this creature. 
The last we have heard of was seen, we believe, in the Island 
of Sumatra — it was of great size and strength, and upwards of 
seven feet high. It died defending desperately its innocent 
life against a party of Europeans, who, we cannot help think- 
ing, might have better employed the superiority which their 
knowledge gave them over the poor native of the forest. It 
was probably this creature, seldom seen, but when once seen 
never forgotten, which occasioned the ancient belief in the god 
Pan, with his sylvans and satyrs. Nay, but for the gift of 
speech, which we cannot suppose any of the family to have 
attained, we should have believed the satyr seen by St. An- 
thony in the desert to have belonged to this tribe. 

We can, therefore, the more easily credit the annals which 
attest that collection of natural history belonging to Alexius 
Comnenus preserved an animal of this kind, which had been 
domesticated and reclaimed to a surprising extent, and showed 
a degree of intelligence never perhaps to be attained in any 
other case. These explanations being premised, we return to 
the thread of our story. 

The animal advanced with long noiseless' steps ; its shadow 
on the wall, when it held the torch so as to make it visible to 
the Frank, forming another fiend-resembling mimicry of its 
own large figure and extravagant-looking members. Count 
Robert remained in his lurking hole, in no hurry to be^ ; " a 
strife, of which it was impossible to foretell the ena. In the 
mean time, the man of the woods came nigh, and every step by 
which he approached caused the Count’s heart to vibrate almost 
audible, at the idea of meeting danger of a nature so strange 
and new. At length the creature approached the bed — his 
hideous eyes were fixed on those of the Count ; and as much 
surprised at seeing him as Robert was at the meeting, he 
skipped about fifteen paces backwards at one spring, with a cry 
of instinctive terror, and then advanced on tiptoe, holding 
his torch as far forward as he could between him and the object 
of his fears, as if to examine him at the safest possible distance. 
Count Robert caught up a fragment of the bedstead large 
enough to form a sort of club, with which he menaced the native 
of the wilds. 

Apparently this poor creature’s education, like education of 
most kinds, had not been acquired without blows, of which the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


213 


recollection was as fresh as that of the lessons which they en- 
forced. Sir Robert of Paris was a man at once to discover 
and to avail himself of the advantage obtained by finding that 
he possessed a degree of ascendancy over his enemy, which he 
had not suspected. He erected his warlike figure, assumed a 
step as if triumphant in the lists, and advanced threatening his 
enemy with his club, as he would have menaced his antagonist 
with the redoubtable Tranchefer. The man of the woods, on 
the other hand, obviously gave way, and converted his cautious 
advance into a retreat no less cautious. Yet apparently the 
creature had not renounced some plan of resistance ; he chat- 
tered in angry and hostile tone, held out his torch in opposition, 
and seemed about to strike the crusader with it. Count Robert, 
however, determined to take his opponent at advantage, while 
his fears influenced him, and for this purpose resolved, if 
possible, to deprive him of his natural superiority in strength 
and agility, which his singular form showed he could not but 
possess over the human species. A master of his weapon, 
therefore, the count menaced his savage antagonist with a 
stroke on the right side of his head, but suddenly averting the 
blow, struck him with his whole force on the left temple, and 
in an instant was kneeling above him, when, drawing his dagger, 
he was about to deprive him of life. 

The Ourang Outang, ignorant of the nature of this new 
weapon with which he was threatened, attempted at one and 
the same moment to rise from the ground, overthrow his an- 
tagonist, and wrench the dagger from his grasp. In the first 
attempt, he would probably have succeeded ; and as it was, he 
gained his knees, and seemed likely to prevail in the struggle, 
when he became sensible that the knight, drawing his poniard 
sharply through his grasp, had cut his paw severely, and seeing 
him aim the trenchant weapon at his throat, became probably 
aware that his enemy had his life at command. He suffered 
himself to be borne backwards without further resistance, with 
a deep wailing and melancholy cry, having in it something 
human, which excited compassion. He covered his eyes with 
the unwounded hand, as if he would have hid from his own 
sight the death which seemed approaching him. 

Count Robert, notwithstanding his military frenzy, was, in 
ordinary matters, a calm-tempered and mild man, and par- 
ticularly benevolent to the lower classes of creation. The 
thought rushed through his mind, “ Why take from this untor* 
tunate monster the breath which is in its nostrils, after which 
it cannot know another existence ? And then, may it not be 


214 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


some prince or knight changed to this grotesque shape, that it 
may help to guard these vaults, and the wonderful adventures 
that attach to them ? Should I not, then, be guilty of a crime 
by slaying him, when he has rendered himself, rescue or no 
rescue, which he has done as completely as his transformed 
figure permits ; and if he be actually a bestial creature, may he 
not have some touch of gratitude ? I have heard the minstrels 
sing the lay of Androcles and the Lion. I will be on my 
guard with him.” 

So saying, he rose from above the man of the woods, and 
permitted him also to arise. The creature seemed sensible of 
the clemency, for he muttered in a low and supplicating tone, 
which seemed at once to crave for mercy, and to return thanks 
for what he had already experienced. He wept too, as he 
saw the blood dropping from his wound, and with an anxious 
countenance, which had more of the human now that it was 
composed into an expression of pain and melancholy, seemed 
to await in terror the doom of a being more powerful than 
himself. 

The pocket which the knight wore under his armor, capable 
of containing but few things, had, however, some vulnerary 
balsam, for which its owner had often occasion, a little lint, and 
a small roll of linen ; these the knight took out, and motioned 
to the animal to hold forth his wounded hand. The man of 
the woods obeyed with hesitation and reluctance, and Count 
Robert applied the balsam and the dressings, acquainting his 
patient, at the same time, in a severe tone of voice, that per- 
haps he did wrong in putting to his use a balsam compounded 
for the service of the noblest knights ; but that, if he saw the 
least sign of his making an ungrateful use of the benefit he had 
conferred, he would bury the dagger, of which he had felt the 
efficacy, to the very handle, in his body. 

The Sylvan looked fixedly upon Count Robert, almost as if 
he understood the language used to him, and making one of its 
native murmurs, it stooped to the earth, kissed the feet of the 
knight, and, embracing his knees, seemed to swear to him 
eternal gratitude and fidelity. Accordingly, when the Count 
retired to the bed and assumed his armor, to await the re-open- 
ing of the trap-door, the animal sat down by his side, directing 
its eyes in the line with his, and seemed quietly to wait till the 
door should open. 

After waiting about an hour, a slight noise was heard in the 
upper chamber, and the wild man plucked the Frank by the 
cloak, as if to call his attention to what was about to happen: 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


2I 5 

The same voice which had before spoken, was, after a whistle 
or two, heard to call, “ Sylvan ! Sylvan ! where loiterest thou ? 
Come instantly, or, by the rood, thou shalt abye thy sloth ! ” 

The poor monster, as Trinculo might have called him, seemed 
perfectly aware of the meaning of this threat, and showed his 
sense of it by pressing close to the side of Count Robert, mak- 
ing at the same time a kind of whining, entreating, it would 
seem, the knight’s protection. Forgetting the great improb- 
ability there was, even in his own opinion, that the creature 
could understand him, Count Robert said, “ Why, my friend, 
thou hast already learned the principal court prayer of this 
country, by which men entreat permission to speak and live. 
Fear nothing, poor creature, — I am thy protector.” 

“ Sylvan ! what, ho ? ” said the voice again ; " whom hast 
thou got for a companion ? some of the fiends, or ghosts of 
murdered men, who they say are frequent in these dungeons ? 
or dost thou converse with the old blind rebel Grecian ? — or, 
finally, is it true what men say of thee, that thou canst talk in- 
telligibly when thou wilt, and only gibberest and chatterest for 
fear thou art sent to work? Come, thou lazy rascal ! thou shalt 
have the advantage of the ladder to ascend by, though thou 
needest it no more than a daw to ascend the steeple of the 
Cathedral of St. Sophia.* Come along then,” he said, putting 
a ladder down the trap-door, “ and put me not to the trouble of 
descending to fetch thee, else, by St. Swithin, it shall be the 
worse for thee. Come along, therefore, like a good fellow, and 
for once I shall spare the whip.” 

The animal, apparently, was moved by this rhetoric, for, 
with a doleful look, which Count Robert saw by means of the 
nearly extinguished torch, he seemed to bid him farewell, and 
to creep away towards the ladder with the same excellent good- 
will wherewith a condemned criminal performs the like evolu- 
tion. But no sooner did the Count look angry, and shake the 
formidable dagger, than the intelligent animal seemed at once 
to take his resolution, and clenching his hands firmly together 
in the fashion of one who has made up his mind, he returned 
from the ladder’s foot, and drew up behind Count Robert, — 
with the air, however, of a deserter, who feels himself but 
little at home when called into the field against his ancient 
commander. 

In a short time the warder’s patience was exhausted, and 
despairing of the Sylvan’s voluntary return, he resolved to de- 
scend in quest of him. Down the ladder he came, a bundle of 

* Now the chief mosque of the Ottoman capital. 


2l6 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


keys in one hand, the other assisting his descent, and a sort of 
dark lantern, whose bottom was so fashioned that he could wear 
it upon his head like a hat. He had scarce stepped on the 
floor, when he was surrounded by the nervous arms of the 
Count of Paris. At first the warder’s idea was, that he was 
seized by the recusant Sylvan. 

“ How now, villain ! ” he said ; “ let me go, or thou shalt 
die the death.” 

“ Thou diest thyself,” said the Count, who, between the 
surprise and his own skill in wrestling, felt fully his advantage 
in the struggle. 

“ Treason ! treason ! ” cried the warder, hearing by the voice 
that a stranger had mingled in the contest ; “ help, ho ! above 
there! help, Hereward — Varangian! — Anglo-Saxon, or what- 
ever accursed name thou callest thyself ! ” 

Whilst he spoke thus, the irresistible grasp of Count Robert 
seized his throat and choked his utterance. They fell heavily, 
the jailer undermost, upon the floor of the dungeon, and Robert 
of Paris, the necessity of whose case excused the action, plunged 
his dagger in the throat of the unfortunate. Just as he did so, 
a noise of armor was heard, and, rattling down the ladder, our 
acquaintance Hereward stood on the floor of the dungeon. 
The light, which had rolled from the head of the warder, con- 
tinued to show him streaming with blood, and in the death-grasp 
of a stranger. Hereward hesitated not to fly to his assistance, 
and, seizing upon the Count of Paris at the same advantage 
which that knight had gained over his adversary a moment 
before, held him forcibly down with his face to the earth. 

Count Robert was one of the strongest men of that military 
age ; but then so was the Varangian ; and save that the latter 
had obtained a decided advantage by having his antagonist 
beneath him, it could not certainly have been conjectured 
which way the combat was to go. 

“ Yield ! as your own jargon goes, rescue or no rescue,” 
said the Varangian, “ or die on the point of my dagger ! ” 

“ A French Count never yields,” answered Robert, who 
began to conjecture with what sort of person he was engaged, 
“ above all, to a vagabond slave like thee ! ” With this he made 
an effort to rise, so sudden, so strong, so powerful, that he had 
almost freed himself from the Varangian’s grasp, had not Here- 
ward, by a violent exertion of his great strength, preserved the 
advantage which he had gained, and raised his poniard to end 
the strife forever ; but a loud chuckling laugh of an unearthly 
sound was at this instant heard. The Varangian’s extended 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


217 

arm was seized with vigor, while a rough arm, embracing his 
throat, turned him over on his back, and gave the French 
Count an opportunity of springing up. 

“ Death to thee, wretch ! ” said the Varangian, scarce know- 
ing whom he threatened ; but the man of the woods apparently 
had an awful recollection of the prowess of human beings. He 
fled, therefore, swiftly up the ladder, and left Hereward and 
his deliverer to fight it out with what success chance might 
determine between them. 

The circumstances seemed to argue a desperate combat ; 
both were tall, strong, and courageous, both had defensive 
armor, and the fatal and desperate poniard was their only 
offensive weapon. They paused facing each other, and exam- 
ined eagerly into their respective means of defence before 
hazarding a blow, which, if it missed its attaint, would certainly 
be fatally requited. During this deadly pause, a gleam shone 
from the trap-door above, as the wild and alarmed visage of the 
man of the woods was seen peering down by the light of a 
newly kindled torch which he held as low into the dungeon as 
he well could. 

“ Fight bravely, comrade,” said Count Robert of Paris, “ for 
we no longer battle in private ; this respectable person having 
chosen to constitute himself judge of the field.” 

Hazardous as his situation was, the Varangian looked up, 
and was so struck with the wild and terrified expression which 
the creature had assumed, and the strife between curiosity and 
terror which its grotesque features exhibited, that he could not 
help bursting into a fit of laughter. 

“Sylvan is among those,” said Hereward, “who would 
rather hold the candle to a dance so formidable than join in it 
himself.” 

“ Is there then,” said Count Robert, “ any absolute necessity 
that thou and I perform this dance at all ? ” 

“ None but our own pleasure,” answered Hereward ; “ for I 
suspect there is not between us any legitimate cause of quarrel 
demanding to be fought out in such a place, and before such a 
spectator. Thou art, if I mistake not, the bold Frank, who 
was yesternight imprisoned in this place with a tiger, chained 
within no distant spring of his bed ? ” 

“ I am,” answered the Count. 

“ And where is the animal who was opposed to thee ? ” 

“ He lies yonder,” answered the Count, “ never again to be 
the object of more terror than the deer whom he may have 
preyed on his day.” He pointed to the body of the tiger, 


2 l8 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


which Hereward examined by the light of the dark lantern 
already mentioned. 

“ And this, then, was thy handiwork ? ” said the wondering 
Anglo-Saxon. 

“ Sooth to say it was,” answered the Count, with indifference. 

‘ And thou hast slain my comrade of this strange watch ? ” 
said the Varangian. 

' “ Mortally wounded him at the least,” said Count Robert. 

“ With your patience, I will be beholden to you for a mo- 
ment’s truce, while I examine his wound,” said Hereward. 

“ Assuredly,” answered the Count ; “ blighted be the arm 
which strikes a foul blow at an open antagonist ? ” 

Without demanding further security, the Varangian quitted 
his posture of defence and precaution, and set himself, by the 
assistance of the dark lantern, to examine the wound of the 
first warder who appeared on the field, who seemed, by his 
Roman military dress, to be a soldier of the bands called Im- 
mortals. He found him in the death-agony, but still able to 
speak. 

“ So Varangian, thou art come at last, — and is it to thy sloth 
or treachery than I am to impute my fate? — Nay, answer me 
not ! — The stranger struck me over the collar-bone — had we 
lived long together, or met often, I had done the like by thee, 
to wipe out the memory of certain transactions at the Golden 
Gate. — I know the use of the knife too well to doubt the effect 
of a blow aimed over the collar-bone by so strong a hand — I 
feel it coming. The Immortal, so called, becomes now, if 
priests say true, an immortal indeed, and Sebastes of Mytilene’s 
bow is broken ere his quiver is half emptied.” 

The robber Greek sunk back in Hereward’s arms, and closed 
his life with a groan, which was the last sound he uttered. The 
Varangian laid the body at length on the dungeon floor. 

“ This is a perplexed matter,” he said ; I am certainly not 
called upon to put to death a brave man, although my national 
enemy, because he hath killed a miscreant who was privately 
meditating my own murder. Neither is this a place or a light 
by which to fight as becomes the champions of two nations. 
Let that quarrel be still for the present. — How say you then, 
noble sir, if we adjourn the present dispute till we effect your 
deliverance from the dungeons of the Blacquernal, and your 
restoration to your own friends and followers ? If a poor Var- 
angian should be of service to you in this matter, would you, 
when it was settled, refuse to meet him in fair fight, with your 
national weapons or his own ? ” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


219 

“ If,” said Count Robert, “ whether friend or enemy, thou 
wilt extend thy assistance to my wife, who is also imprisoned 
somewhere in this inhospitable palace, be assured, that what- 
ever be thy rank, whatever be thy country, whatever be thy 
condition, Robert of Paris will, at thy choice, proffer thee his 
right hand in friendship, or raise it against thee in fair and 
manly battle — a strife not of hatred but of honor and esteem ; 
and this I vow by the soul of Charlemagne, my ancestor, and 
by the shrine of my patroness, Our Lady of the Broken 
Lances.” 

“ Enough said,” replied Hereward ; “ I am as much bound 
to the assistance of your Lady Countess, being a poor exile, as 
if I were the first in the ranks of chivalry ; for if anything can 
make the cause of worth and bravery yet more obligatory, it 
must be its being united with that of a helpless and suffering 
female.” 

“ I ought,” said Count Robert, “ to be here silent, without 
loading thy generosity with further requests ; yet thou art a 
man, whom, if fortune has not smiled at thy birth, by ordain- 
ing thee to be born within the ranks of noblesse and knight- 
hood, yet Providence hath done thee more justice by giving 
thee a more gallant heart than is always possessed, I fear, by 
those who are inwoven in the gayest wreath of chivalry. There 
lingers here in these dungeons, for I cannot say he lives — a 
blind old man to whom for three years everything beyond his 
prison has been a universal blot. His food is bread and water, 
his intercourse limited to the conversation of a sullen warder, 
and if death can ever come as a deliverer, it must be to this 
dark old man. What sayst thou ? Shall he, so unutterably 
miserable, not profit by perhaps the only opportunity of free- 
dom that may ever occur to him.’’ 

“By St. Dunstan,” answered the Varangian, “thou keepest 
over truly the oath thou hast taken as a redresser of wrongs ! 
Thine own case is well-nigh desperate, and thou art willing to 
make it utterly so by uniting with it that of every unhappy 
person whom fate throws in thy way ! ” 

“ The more of human misery we attempt to relieve,” said 
Robert of Paris, “ the more we shall carry with us the blessing 
of our merciful saints, and our Lady of the Broken Lances, 
who views with so much pain every species of human suffering 
or misfortune, save that which occurs within the enclosure of 
the lists. But come, valiant Anglo-Saxon, resolve me on my 
request as speedily as thou canst. There is something in thy 
face of candor as well as sense, and it is with no small confb 


220 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


dence that I desire to see us set forth in quest of my beloved 
Countess, who, when her deliverance is once achieved, will be 
a powerful aid to us in recovering that of others.” 

“ So be it, then,” said the Varangian ; we will proceed in 
quest of the Countess Brenhilda ; and if, on recovering her, we 
find ourselves strong enough to procure the freedom of the dark 
old man, my cowardice, or want of compassion, shall never stop 
the attempt.” 


CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH. 


’ Tis strange that, in the dark sulphurous mine, 

Where wild ambition piles its ripening stores 
Of slumbering thunder, Love will interpose 
His tiny torch, and cause the stern explosion 
To burst, when the deviser’s least aware. 

Anonymous. 

About noon of the same day, Agelastes met with Achilles 
Tatius, the commander of the Varangian guard, in those ruins 
of the Egyptian temple in which we formerly mentioned Here- 
ward having had an interview with the philosopher. They 
met, as it seemed, in a very different humor. Tatius was 
gloomy, melancholy, and downcast ; while the philosopher 
maintained the calm indifference which procured for him, and 
in some sort deserved, the title of the Elephant. “Thou 
blenchest, Achilles Tatius,” said the philosopher, “ now that 
thou hast frankly opposed thyself to all the dangers which 
stood between thee and greatness. Thou art like the idle boy 
who turned the mill-stream upon the machine, and that done, 
instead of making a proper use of it, was terrified at seeing it 
in motion.” 

“ Thou dost me wrong, Agelastes,” answered the Acolyte, 
“ foul wrong ; I am but like the mariner, who, although deter- 
mined upon his voyage, yet cannot forbear a sorrowing glance 
at the shore, before he parts with it, it may be forever.” 

“ It may have been right to think of this, but pardon me, 
valiant Tatius, when I tell you the account should have been 
made up before ; and the grandson of Alguric the Hun ought 
to have computed chances and consequences ere he stretched 
his hand to his master’s diadem.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


221 


“ Hush ! for Heaven’s sake,” said Tatius, looking round ; 
“ that thou knowest, is a secret between our two selves ; for if 
Nicephorus, the Caesar, should learn it, where were we and our 
conspiracy ? ” 

“ Our bodies on the gibbet, probably,” answered Agelastes, 
“ and our souls divorced from them, and in the way of discover- 
ing the secrets which thou hast hitherto taken upon trust.” 

“ Well,” said Achilles, “ and should not the consciousness 
of the possibility of this fate render us cautious ? ” 

“ Cautious men, if you will, answered Agelastes, “ but not 
timid children.” 

“ Stone walls can hear,” — said the Follower, lowering his 
voice. “ Dionysius the tyrant, I have read, had an Ear which 
conveyed to him the secrets spoken within his state-prison at 
Syracuse.” 

“ And that Ear is still stationary at Syracuse,” said the phil- 
osopher. “ Tell me, my most simple friend, art thou afraid it 
has been transported hither in one night, as the Latins believe 
of Our Lady’s house of Loretto ? ” 

“ No,” answered Achilles, “ but in an affair so important too 
much caution cannot be used.” 

“Well, thou most cautious of candidates for empire, and 
most cold of military leaders, know that the Caesar, deeming, I 
think, that there is no chance of the empire falling to any one 
but himself, hath taken in his head to consider his succession 
to Alexius as a matter of course, whenever the election takes 
place. In consequence, as matters of course are usually matters 
of indifference, he has left all thoughts of securing his interest 
upon this material occasion to thee and to me, while the foolish 
voluptuary hath himself run mad — for what think you ? Some- 
thing between man and woman — female in her lineaments, her 
limbs, and a part at least of her garments ; but, so help me St. 
George, most masculine in the rest of her attire, in her propen- 
sities, and in her exercises.” 

“ The Amazonian wife, thou meanest,” said Achilles, “ of 
that iron-handed Frank who dashed to pieces last night the 
golden lion of Solomon with a blow of his fist ? By St. George, 
the least which can come of such an amour is broken bones.” 

“ That,” said Agelastes, “is not quite so improbable as that 
Dionysius’s Ear should fly hither from Syracuse in a single 
night ; but he is presumptuous in respect of the influence which 
his supposed good looks have gained him among the Grecian 
dames.” 

“ He was too presumptuous, I suppose,” said Achilles Tatius, 


222 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ to make a proper allowance for his situation as Caesar, and 
the prospect of his being Emperor.” 

“ Meantime,” said Agelastes, “ I have promised him an 
interview with his Bradamante, who may perhaps reward his 
tender epithets of Zoe kai psyche ,* by divorcing his amorous 
soul from his unrivalled person.” 

“ Meantime,” said the Follower, “ thou obtainest, I conclude, 
such orders and warrants as the Caesar can give for the further- 
ance of our plot ? ” 

“Assuredly,” said Agelastes, “it is an opportunity not to be 
lost. This love fit, or mad fit, has blinded him ; and without 
exciting too much attention to the progress of the plot, we can 
thus in safety conduct matters our own way, without causing 
malevolent remarks ; and though I am conscious that, in doing 
so, I act somewhat at variance with my age and character, yet 
the end being to convert a worthy Follower into an Imperial 
Leader, I shame me not in procuring that interview with the 
lady, of which the Caesar, as they term him, is so desirous. — 
What progress, meanwhile, hast thou made with the Varangians, 
who are, in respect of execution, the very arm of our design ? ” 

“ Scarce so good as I could wish,” said Achilles Tatius ; 
“yet I have made sure of some two or three score of those 
whom I found most accessible ; nor have I any doubt that, 
when the Caesar is set aside, their cry will be for Achilles 
Tatius.” 

“ And what of the gallant who assisted at our prelections ? ” 
said Agelastes ; “ your Edward, as Alexius termed him ? ” 

“ I have made no impression upon him,” said the Follower; 
“ and I am sorry for it, for he is one whom his comrades think 
well of, and would gladly follow. Meantime I have placed him 
as an additional sentinel upon the iron-witted Count of Paris, 
whom, both having an inveterate love of battle, he is very likely 
to put to death ; and if it is afterwards challenged by the cru- 
saders as a cause of war, it is only delivering up the Varangian, 
whose personal hatred will needs be represented as having 
occasioned the catastrophe. All this being prepared before- 
hand, how and when shall we deal with the Emperor ? ” 

“ For that,” said Agelastes, “ we must consult the Caesar, 
who, although his expected happiness of to-day is not more 
certain than the state preferment that he expects to-morrow, 
and although his ideas are much more anxiously fixed upon his 
success with this said Countess than his succession to the 
emp*re, will nevertheless expect to be treated as the head of the 

♦“Life and Soul.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


223 

enterprise for accelerating the latter. But, to speak my opinion, 
valiant Tatius, to-morrow will be the last day that Alexius shall 
hold the reins of empire.” 

“ Let me know for certain,” said the Follower, “ as soon as 
thou canst, that I may warn our brethren, who are to have in 
readiness the insurgent citizens, and those of the Immortals 
who are combined with us, in the neighborhood of the court, 
and in readiness to act — And, above all, that I may disperse 
upon distant guards such Varangians as I cannot trust.” 

“ Rely upon me,” said Agelastes, “ for the most accurate 
information and instruction, so soon as I have seen Nicephorus 
Briennius. One word permit me to ask — in what manner is 
the wife of the Caesar to be disposed of ? ” 

“ Somewhere,” said the Follower, “ where I can never be 
compelled to hear more of her history. Were it not for that 
nightly pest of her lectures, I could be good-natured enough to 
take care of her destiny myself, and teach her the difference 
betwixt a real emperor and this Briennius, who thinks so much 
of himself.” So saying, they separated ; the Follower elated 
in look and manner considerably above what he had been when 
they met. 

Agelastes looked after his companion with a scornful laugh. 
“ There,” he said, “ goes a fool, whose lack of sense prevents 
his eyes from being dazzled by the torch which cannot fail to 
consume him. A half-bred, half-acting, half-thinking, half- 
daring caitiff, whose poorest thoughts — and those which deserve 
that name must be poor indeed — are not the produce of his 
own understanding. He expects to circumvent the fiery, 
haughty, and proud Nicephorus Briennus ! If he does so, it 
will not be by his own policy, and still less by his valor. Nor 
shall Anna Comnena, the soul of wit and genius, be chained to 
such an unimaginative log as yonder half-barbarian. No — she 
shall have a husband of pure Grecian extraction, and well 
stored with that learning which was studied when Rome was 
great, and Greece illustrious. Nor will it be the least charm 
of the Imperial throne, that it is partaken by a partner whose 
personal studies have taught her to esteem and value those of 
the Emperor.” He took a step or two with conscious elevation, 
and then, as conscience-checked, he added, in a suppressed 
voice, “ But then, if Anna were destined for Empress, it follows 
of course that Alexius must die — no consent could be trusted 
to. — And what then ? — the death of an ordinary man is in- 
different, when it plants on the throne a philosopher and a 
historian ; and at what time were the possessors of the empire 


224 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


curious to inquire when or by whose agency their predecessors 
died ? — Diogenes ! Ho, Diogenes ! ” The slave did not imme- 
diately come, so that Agelastes, wrapt in the anticipation of his 
greatness, had time to add a few more words — “ Tush — I must 
reckon with heaven, say the priests, for many things, so I will 
throw this also into the account. The death of the Emperor 
may be twenty ways achieved without my having the blame of 
it. The blood which we have shed may spot our hand if closely 
regarded, but it shall scarce stain our forehead.” Diogenes 
here entered — “ Has the Frank lady been removed? ” said the 
philosopher. 

The slave signified his assent. 

“ How did she bear her removal ? ” 

“As authorized by your lordship, indifferently well. She 
had resented her separation from her husband, and her being 
detained in the palace, and committed some violence upon the 
slaves of the Household, several of whom were said to be slain, 
although we perhaps ought only to read sorely frightened. She 
recognized me at once, and when I told her that I came to offer 
her a day’s retirements in your own lodgings, until it should be 
in your power to achieve the liberation of her husband, she at 
once consented, and I deposited her in the secret Cytherean 
garden-house.” 

“ Admirably done, my faithful Diogenes,” said the philos- 
opher ; “thou art like the genii who attended on the Eastern 
talismans ; I have but to intimate my will to thee, and it is 
accomplished.” 

Diogenes bowed deeply, and withdrew. 

“ Yet remember, slave ! ” said Agelastes, speaking to him- 
self ; “ there is danger in knowing too much — and should my 
character ever become questioned, too many of my secrets are 
in the power of Diogenes.” 

At this moment a blow thrice repeated, and struck upon one 
of the images without, which had been so framed as to return 
a tingling sound, and in so far deserved the praise of being 
vocal, interrupted his soliloquy. 

“ There knocks,” said he, “ one of our allies ; who can it be 
that comes so late?” He touched the figure of Isis with his 
staff, and the Caesar Nicephorus Briennius entered in the full 
Grecian habit, and that graceful dress anxiously arranged to 
the best advantage. “ Let me hope, my lord,” said Agelastes, 
receiving the Caesar with an apparently grave and reserved face, 
“your Highness comes to tell me that your sentiments are 
changed on reflection, and that whatever you had to confer 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


225 

about with this Frankish lady, may be at least deferred until 
the principal part of our conspiracy has been successfully 
executed.” 

“ Philosopher,” answered the Caesar, “ no. My resolution, 
once taken, is not the sport of circumstances. Believe me, 
that I have not finished so many labors without being ready 
to undertake others. The favor of Venus is the reward of the 
labors of Mars ; nor would I think it worth while to worship 
the god armipotent with the toil and risk attending his service, 
unless I had previously attained some decided proofs that I 
was wreathed with the myrtle, intimating the favor of his beau- 
tiful mistress.” 

“ I beg pardon for my boldness,” said Agelastes ; “ but 
has your Imperial Highness reflected, that you were wagering, 
with the wildest rashness, an empire, including thine own life, 
mine, and all who are joined with us in a hardy scheme ? And 
against what were they waged ? Against the very precarious 
favor of a woman, who is altogether divided betwixt fiend and 
female, and in either capacity is most likely to be fatal to our 
present scheme, either by her good will, or by the offence 
which she may take. If she prove such as you wish, she will 
desire to keep her lover by her side, and to spare him the 
danger of engaging in a perilous conspiracy ; and if she re- 
mains, as the world believe her, constant to her husband, and 
to the sentiments she vowed to him at the altar, you may guess 
what cause of offence you are likely to give, by urging a suit 
which she has already received so very ill.” 

“Pshaw, old man! Thou turnest a dotard, and in the 
great knowledge thou possesses^ of other things, hast forgotten 
the knowledge best worth knowing — that of the beautiful part 
of the creation. Think of the impression likely to be made 
by a gallant neither ignoble in situation, nor unacceptable in 
presence, upon a lady who must fear the consequences of re- 
fusal ! Come, Agelastes, let me have no more of thy croaking, 
auguring bad fortune like the raven from the blasted oak on 
the left hand ; but declaim, as well as thou canst, how faint 
heart never won fair lady, and how those best deserve empire 
who can wreath the myrtles of Venus with the laurels of Mars. 
Come, man, undo me the secret entrance which combines these 
magical ruins with groves that are fashioned rather like those 
of Cytheros or Naxos.” 

“ It must be as you will ! ” said the philosopher, with a 
deep and somewhat affected sigh. 

“ Here, Diogenes ! ” called aloud the Caesar ; “ when thou 

*5 


226 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


art summoned, mischief is not far distant. Come, undo the 
secret entrance. Mischief, my trusty negro, is not so distant 
but she will answer the first clatter of the stones.” 

The negro looked at his master, who returned him a glance 
acquiescing in the Caesar’s proposal. Diogenes then went to 
a part of the ruined wall which was covered by some climbing 
shrubs, all of which he carefully removed. This showed a 
little postern door, closed irregularly, and filled up, from the 
threshold to the top, with large square stones, all of which the 
slave took out and piled aside, as if for the purpose of re- 
placing them. “ I leave thee,” said Agelasfes to the negro, 
“ to guard this door, and let no one enter, except he has the 
sign, upon the peril of thy life. It were dangerous it should 
be left open at this period of the day.” 

The obsequious Diogenes put his hand to his sabre and to 
his head, as if to signify the usual promise of fidelity or death 
by which those of his condition generally expressed their 
answer to their master’s commands. Diogenes then lighted a 
small lantern, and pulling out a key, opened an inner door of 
wood, and prepared to step forward. 

“ Hold, friend Diogenes,” said the Caesar ; “ thou wantest 
not my lantern to discern an honest man, whom, if thou didst 
seek, I must needs say thou hast come to the wrong place to 
find one. Nail thou up these creeping shrubs before the en- 
trance of the place, and abide thou there as already directed, 
till our return, to parry the curiosity of any who may be at- 
tracted by the sight of the private passage.” 

The black slave drew back as he gave the lamp to the 
Caesar, and Agelastes followed the light through a long, but 
narrow, arched passage, well supplied with air from space to 
space, and not neglected in the inside to the degree which its 
exterior would have implied. 

“ I will not enter with you into the gardens,” said Agelastes, 
“ or to the bower of Cytherea, where I am too old to be a 
worshipper. Thou, thyself, I think, Imperial Caesar, art well 
aware of the road, having travelled it divers times ; and, if 1 
mistake not, for the fairest reasons.” 

“ The more thanks,” said the Caesar, " are due to mine ex- 
cellent friend Agelastes, who forgets his own age to accommo* 
date the youth of his friends.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


227 


CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. 


Triumphant constancy has fixed her seat : 

In vain the syrens sing, the tempests beat. 

Prior. 

We must now return to the dungeon of the Blacquernal, 
where circumstances had formed at least a temporary union 
between the stout Varangian and Count Robert of Paris, who 
had a stronger resemblance to each other in their dispositions 
than probably either of them would have been willing to admit. 
The virtues of the Varangian were all of that natural and un- 
refined kind which nature herself dictates to a gallant man, to 
whom a total want of fear, and the most prompt alacrity to 
meet danger, had been attributes of a life-long standing. The 
Count, on the other hand, had all that bravery, generosity, and 
love of adventure, which was possessed by the rude soldier, 
with the virtues, partly real, partly fantastic, which those of 
his rank and country acquired from the spirit of chivalry. The 
one might be compared to the diamond as it came from the 
mine, before it had yet received the advantages of cutting and 
setting ; the other was the ornamented gem, which, cut into 
facets and richly set, had lost perhaps a little of its original 
substance, yet still, at the same time, to the eye of an inspec- 
tor, had something more showy and splendid than when it was, 
according to the phrase of lapidaries, en brut . In the one 
case, the value was more artificial ; in the other, it was the 
more natural and real of the two. Chance, therefore, had 
made a temporary alliance between two men, the foundation of 
whose characters bore such strong resemblance to each othey, 
that they were only separated by a course of education, which 
had left rigid prejudices on both sides, and which prejudices 
were not unlikely to run counter to each other. The Varangian 
commenced his conversation with the Count in a tone of famil- 
iarity, approaching nearer to rudeness than the speaker was 
aware of, and much of which, though most innocently intended 
by Here ward, might be taken amiss by his new brother in 
arms. The most offensive part of his deportment, however, 
was. a blunt, bold disregard to the title of those whom he ad- 
dressed, adhering thereby to the manners of the Saxons, from 
whom he drew his descent, and which was likely to be at least 


228 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


unpleasing to the Franks as well as Normans, who had already 
received and become very tenacious of the privileges of the 
feudal system, the mummery of heraldry, and the warlike 
claims assumed by knights, as belonging only to their own 
order. 

Hereward was apt, it must be owned, to think too little of 
these distinctions ; while he had at least a sufficient tendency 
to think enough of the power and wealth of the Greek empire 
which he served, — of the dignity inherent in Alexius Comne- 
nus, and which he was also disposed to grant to the Grecian 
officers, who, under the Emperor, commanded his own corps, 
and particularly to Achilles Tatius. This man Hereward 
knew to be a coward, and half suspected to be a villain. Still, 
however, the Follower was always the direct channel through 
which the Imperial graces were conferred on the Varangians 
in general, as well as upon Hereward himself ; and he had 
always the policy to represent such favors as being more or 
less indirectly the consequence of his own intercession. He 
was supposed vigorously to espouse the quarrel of the Varan- 
gians, in all the disputes between them and the other corps ; 
he was liberal and open-handed ; gave every soldier his due ; 
and, bating the trifling circumstance of valor, which was not 
particularly his forte, it would have been difficult for these 
strangers to have demanded a leader more to their wishes. 
Besides this, our friend Hereward was admitted by him into 
his society, attended him, as we have seen, upon secret expe- 
ditions, and shared, therefore, deeply, in what may be termed 
by an expressive, though vulgar phrase, the sneaking kindness 
entertained for this new Achilles by the greater part of his 
myrmidons. 

Their attachment might be explained, perhaps, as a liking 
to their commander, as strong as could well exist with a mar- 
vellous lack of honor and esteem. The scheme, therefore, 
formed by Hereward to effect the deliverance of the Count of 
Paris, comprehended as much faith to the Emperor, and his 
representative, the Acolyte or Follower, as was consistent with 
rendering justice to the injured Frank. 

In furtherance of this plan, he conducted Count Robert 
from the subterranean vaults of the Blacquernal, of the intrica- 
cies of which he was master, having been repeatedly, of late, 
stationed sentinel there, for the purpose of acquiring that 
knowledge of which Tatius promised himself the advantage in 
the ensuing conspiracy. When they were in the open air, and 
at some distance from the gloomy towers of the Palace, he 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


229 

bluntly asked the Count of Paris whether he knew Agelastes 
the Philosopher. The other answered in the negative. 

“ Look you now, Sir Knight, you hurt yourself in attempt- 
ing to impose upon me,” said Hereward. “ You must know 
him ; for I saw you dined with him yesterday.” 

“ O ! with that learned old man ? ” said the Count. “ I 
know nothing of him worth owning or disguising to thee or any 
one. A wily person he is, half herald and half minstrel.” 

“ Half procurer and whole knave,” subjoined the Varangian. 
“ With the mask of apparent good-humor he conceals his pan- 
dering to the vices of others ; with the spacious jargon of 
philosophy, he has argued himself out of religious belief and 
moral principle ; and, with the appearance of the most devoted 
loyalty, he will, if he is not checked in time, either argue his 
too confiding master out of life and empire, or if he fails in this, 
reason his simple associates into death and misery.” 

“ And do you know all this,” said Count Robert, “ and per- 
mit this man to go unimpeached ? ” 

“ Oh, content you, sir,” replied the Varangian ; “ I cannot 
yet form any plot which Agelastes may not countermine ; but 
the time will come, nay it is already approaching, when the 
Emperor’s attention shall be irresistibly turned to the conduct 
of this man, and then let the philosopher sit fast, or, by St. 
Dunstan, the barbarian overthrows him ! I would only fain, 
methinks, save from his clutches a foolish friend, who has 
listened to his delusions.” 

“ But what have I to do,” said the Count, “ with this man, 
or with his plots ? ” 

“ Much,” said Hereward, “ although you know it not. The 
main supporter of this plot is no other than the Caesar, who 
ought to be the most faithful of men ; but ever since Alexius 
has named a Sebastocrator, an officer that is higher in rank 
and nearer to the throne than the Caesar himself, so long has 
Nicephorus Briennius been displeased and dissatisfied, though 
for what length of time he has joined the schemes of the 
astucious Agelastes it is more difficult to say. This I know, 
that for many months he has fed liberally, as his riches enable 
him to do, the vices and prodigality of the Caesar. He has 
encouraged him to show disrespect to his wife, although the 
Emperor’s daughter ; has put ill-will between him and the royal 
family. And if Briennius bears no longer the fame of a rational 
man, and the renown of a good leader, he is deprived of both 
by following the advice of this artful sycophant.” 

“ And what is all this to me ? ” said the Frank. “ Agelastes 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS 


230 

may be a true man or a time-serving slave ; his master, Alexius 
Comnenus, is not so much allied to me or mine that I should 
meddle in the intrigues of his court.” 

“ You may be mistaken in that,” said the blunt Varangian ; 
“ if these intrigues involve the happiness and virtue ” 

“ Death of a thousand martyrs ! ” said the Frank, “ do paltry 
intrigues and quarrels of slaves involve a single thought of sus- 
picion of the noble Countess of Paris ? The oaths of thy whole 
generation were ineffectual to prove but that one of her hairs 
had changed its color to silver ! ” 

“Well imagined, gallant knight,” said the Anglo-Saxon; 
“ thou art a husband fitted for the atmosphere of Constantino- 
ple, which calls for little vigilance and a strong belief. Thou 
wilt find many followers and fellows in this court of ours.” 

“ Hark thee, friend,” replied the Frank ; “ let us have no 
more worlds, nor walk farther together than just to the most 
solitary nook of this bewildered city, and let us there set to 
that work which we left even now unfinished.” 

“ If thou wert a Duke, Sir Count,” replied the Varangian, 
“thou couldst not invite to a combat one who is more ready 
for it. Yet consider the odds on which we fight. If I fall, my 
moan is soon made ; but will my death set thy wife at liberty 
if she is under restraint, or restore her honor if it is tarnished ? 
— Will it do anything more than remove from the world the 
only person who is willing to give thee aid, at his own risk and 
danger, and who hopes to unite thee to thy wife, and replace 
thee at the head of thy forces ? ” 

“I was wrong,” said the Count of Paris ; “I was entirely 
wrong ; but beware, my good friend, how thou couplest the 
name of Brenhilda of Aspramonte with the word of dishonor, 
and tell me, instead of this irritating discourse, whither go we 
now ? ” 

“ To the Cytherean gardens of Agelastes, from which we 
are not far distant,” said the Anglo-Saxon ; yet he hath a 
nearer way to it than that by which we now travel, else I 
should be at a loss to account for the short space in which 
he could exchange the charms of his garden for the gloomy 
ruins of the Temple of Isis, and the Imperial palace of the 
Blacquernal.” 

“And wherefore, and how long,” said Count Robert, 
“dost thou conclude that my Countess is detained in these 
gardens ? ” 

“ Ever since yesterday,” replied Hereward. “ When both 
I, and several of my companions, at my request, kept close 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


231 

watch upon the Csesar and your lady, we did plainly perceive 
passages of fiery admiration on his part, and anger as it 
seemed on hers, which Agelastes, being Nicephorus’s friend, 
was likely, as usual, to bring to an end, by a separation of you 
both from the army of the crusaders, that your wife, like many 
a matron before, might have the pleasure of taking up her resi- 
dence in the gardens of that worthy sage ; while you, my Lord, 
might take up your own permanently in the castle of Blac- 
quernal.” 

“ Villain ! why didst thou not apprise me of this yester- 
day ? ” 

“ A likely thing,” said Hereward, “ that I should feel my- 
self at liberty to leave the ranks, and make such a communica- 
tion to a man, whom, far from a friend, I then considered in 
the light of a personal enemy ? Methinks, that instead of such 
language as this, you should be thankful that so many chance 
circumstances have at length brought me to befriend and assist 
you.” 

Count Robert felt the truth of what was said, though at the 
same time his fiery temper longed to avenge itself, according 
to its wont, upon the party which was nearest at hand. 

But now they arrived at what the citizens of Constantinople 
called the Philosopher’s Gardens. Here Hereward hoped to 
obtain entrance, for he had gained a knowledge of some part, 
at least, of the private signals of Achilles and Agelastes, since 
he had been introduced to the last at the ruins of the Temple 
of Isis. They had not indeed admitted him to their entire 
secret ; yet, confident in his connection with the Follower, they 
had no hesitation in communicating to him snatches of knowl- 
edge, such as, committed to a man of shrewd natural sense 
like the Anglo-Saxon, could scarce fail, in time and by degrees, 
to make him master of the whole. Count Robert and his com- 
panion stood before an arched door, the only opening in a high 
wall, and the Anglo-Saxon was about to knock, when, as if the 
idea had suddenly struck him, — 

“ What if the wretch Diogenes opens the gate ? We must 
kill him, ere he can fly back and betray us. Well, it is a matter 
of necessity, and the villain has deserved his death by a 
hundred horrid crimes.” 

“Kill him then, thyself,” retorted Count Robert; “ he Is 
nearer thy degree, and assuredly I will not defile the name of 
Charlemagne with the blood of a black slave.” 

“ Nay, God-a-mercy ! ” answered the Anglo -Saxon, “ but you 
must bestir yourself in the action, supposing there come rescue, 
and that I be overborne by odds.” 


232 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ Such odds,” said the knight, “ will render the action more 
like a meiee \ or general battle ; and assure yourself, I will not 
be slack when I may, with my honor, be active.” 

“ I doubt it not,” said the Varangian ; “ but the distinction 
seems a strange one, that before permitting a man to defend 
himself, or annoy his enemy, requires him to demand the pedi- 
gree of his ancestor.” 

“Fear you not, sir,” said Count Robert. “The strict rule 
of chivalry indeed bears what I tell thee, but when the question 
is, Fight or not ? there is great allowance to be made for a de- 
cision in the affirmative.” 

“ Let me give them the exorciser’s rap,” replied Hereward, 
“ and see what fiend will appear.” 

So saying, he knocked in a particular manner, and the dooi 
opened inwards ; a dwarfish negress stood in the gap — hei 
white hair contrasted singularly with her dark complexion, and 
with the broad laughing look peculiar to those slaves. She 
had something in her physiognomy which, severely construed, 
might argue malice, and a delight in human misery. 

“Is Agelastes— — ” said the Varangian; but he had not 
completed the sentence, when she answered him, by pointing 
down a shadowed walk. 

The Anglo-Saxon and Frank turned in that direction, when 
the hag rather muttered, then said distinctly, “ You are one of 
the initiated, Varangian ; take heed whom you take with you, 
when you may hardly, peradventure, be welcomed even going 
alone.” 

Hereward made a sign that he understood her, and they 
were instantly out of her sight. The path winded beautifully 
through the shades of an Eastern garden, where clumps of 
flowers and labyrinths of flowering shrubs, and the tall boughs 
of the forest trees, rendered even the breath of noon cool and 
acceptable. 

“ Here we must use our utmost caution,” said Hereward, 
speaking in a low tone of voice ; “ for here it is most likely 
the deer that we seek has found its refuge. Better allow me to 
pass before, since you are too deeply agitated to possess the 
coolness necessary for a scout. Keep concealed beneath yon 
oak, and let no vain scruples of honor deter you from creeping 
beneath the underwood, or beneath the earth itself, if you 
should hear a foot fall. If the lovers have agreed, Agelastes, it 
is probable, walks his round, to prevent intrusion.” 

“ Death and furies ! it cannot be ! ” exclaimed the fiery Frank. 

• — “ Lady of the Broken Lances, take thy votary’s life, ere thou 
torment him with this agony l ” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


233 

He saw, however, the necessity of keeping a strong force 
upon himself, and permitted, without further remonstrance, the 
Varangian to pursue his way, looking, however, earnestly after 
him. 

By advancing forward a little, he could observe Hereward 
draw near to a pavilion which arose at no great distance from 
the place where they had parted. Here he observed him apply, - 
first his eye and then his ear, to one of the casements, which 
were in a great measure grown over, and excluded from the 
light, by various flowering shrubs. He almost thought he saw 
a grave interest take place in the countenance of the Varangian, 
and he longed to have his share of the information which he 
had doubtless obtained. 

He crept, therefore, with noiseless steps, through the same 
labyrinth of foliage which had covered the approaches of Here- 
ward ; and so silent were his movements, that he touched the 
Anglo-Saxon, in order to make him aware of his presence, be- 
fore he observed his approach. 

Hereward, not aware at first by whom he was approached, 
turned on the intruder with a countenance like a burning coal. 
Seeing, however, that it was the Frank, he shrugged his 
shoulders, as if pitying the impatience which could not be kept 
under prudent restraint, and drawing himself back allowed the 
Count the privilege of a peeping place through plinths of the 
casement, which could not be discerned by the sharpest eye 
from the inner side. The sombre character of the light which 
penetrated into this abode of pleasure, was suited to that 
species of thought to which a Temple of Cytherea was sup- 
posed to be dedicated. Portraits and groups of statuary were 
also to be seen, in the taste of those which they had beheld at 
the Kiosk of the waterfall, yet something more free in the 
ideas which they conveyed than were to be found at their first 
resting place. Shortly after, the door of the pavilion opened, 
and the countess entered, followed by her attendant Agatha. 
The lady threw herself on a couch as she came in, while her 
attendant, who was a young and very handsome woman, kept 
herself modestly in the background, so much so as hardly to be 
distinguished. 

“ What dost thou think,” said the countess, “ of so suspicious 
a friend as Agelastes ? so gallant an enemy as the Caesar, as 
he is called ? ” 

“ What should I think,” returned the damsel, “ except that 
what the old man calls friendship is hatred, and what the 
Caesar terms a patriotic love for his country, which will not 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


234 

permit him to set its enemies at liberty, is in fact too strong an 
affection for his fair captive ? ” 

“ For such an affection,” said the countess, “ he shall have 
the same requital as if it were indeed the hostility of which he 
would give it the color. — My true and noble lord ! hadst thou 
an idea of the calamities to which they have subjected me, how 
soon wouldst thou break through every restraint to hasten to 
my relief ! ” 

“ Art thou a man,” said Count Robert to his companion ; 
“and canstthou advise me to remain still and hear this?” 

“ I am one man,” said the Anglo-Saxon ; “ you, sir, are an- 
other ; but all our arithmetic will not make us more than two ; 
and in this place, it is probable that a whistle from the Caesar, 
or a scream from Agelastes, would bring a thousand to match 
us, if we were as bold as Bevis of Hampton.* — Stand still and 
keep quiet. I counsel this, less as respecting my own life, 
which, by embarking up on a wild-goose chase with so strange a 
partner, I have shown I put at little value, than for thy safety, 
and that of the lady thy countess, who shows herself as virtuous 
as beautiful.” 

“ I was imposed on at first,” said the Lady Brenhilda to her 
attendant. “Affectation of severe morals, of deep learning, 
and of rigid rectitude, assumed by this wicked old man, made 
me believe in part the character which he pretended ; but the 
gloss is rubbed off since he let me see into his alliance with the 
unworthy Caesar, and the ugly picture remains in its native 
loathsomeness. Nevertheless, if I can, by address or subtlety, 
deceive this arch-deceiver, — as he has taken from me, in a great 
measure, every other kind of assistance, — I will not refuse that 
of craft, which he may find perhaps equal to his own ! ” 

“ Hear you that ? ” said the Varangian to the Count of Paris. 
“ Do not let your impatience mar the web of your lady’s pru- 
dence. I will weigh a woman’s wit against a man’s valor where 
there is aught to do ! Let us not come in with our assistance 
until time shall show us that it is necessary for her safety and 
our success.” 

“ Amen,” said the Count of Paris ; “ but hope not, Sir 
Saxon, that thy prudence shall persuade me to leave this gar- 
den without taking full vengeance on that unworthy Caesar, and 
the pretended philosopher, if indeed he turns out to have as- 
sumed a character ” The Count was here beginning to raise 

his voice, when the Saxon, without ceremony, placed his hand 


[The traditional Saxon giant.] 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


235 

on his mouth. “ Thou takest a liberty,” said Count Robert, 
lowering however his tones. 

“ Ay, truly,” said Hereward ; “ when the house is on fire I 
do not stop to ask whether the water which I pour on it be per- 
fumed or no.” 

This recalled the Frank to a sense of his situation ; and if 
not contented with the Saxon’s mode of making an apology, he 
was at least silenced. A distant noise was now heard — the 
Countess listened and changed color. “ Agatha,” she said, “ we 
are like champions in the lists, and here comes the adversary. 
Let us retreat into this side apartment, and so for a while put 
off an encounter thus alarming.” So saying, the two females 
withdrew into a sort of anteroom, which opened from the prin- 
cipal apartment behind the seat which Brenhilda had occupied. 

They had scarcely disappeared, when, as the stage direction 
has it, enter from the other side the Caesar and Agelastes. 
They had perhaps heard the last words of Brenhilda, for the 
Caesar repeated in a low tone — 

“ Militat omnis amans, habet et sua castra Cupido. 

What, has our fair opponent withdrawn her forces ? No mat- 
ter ; it shows she thinks of the warfare, though the enemy be 
not in sight. Well, thou shalt not have to upbraid me this 
time, Agelastes, with precipitating my amours, and depriving 
myself of the pleasure of pursuit. By heavens, I will be as 
regular in my progress as if in reality I bore on my shoulders 
the whole load of years which make the difference between us ; 
for I shrewdly suspect that with thee, old man, it is that envious 
churl Time that hath plucked the wings of Cupid.” 

“ Say not so, mighty Caesar,” said the old man ; “it is the 
hand of prudence, which, depriving Cupid’s wing of some wild 
feathers, leaves him still enough to fly with an equal and steady 
flight.” 

“ Thy flight, however, was less measured, Agelastes, when 
thou didst collect that armory — that magazine of Cupid’s 
panoply, out of which thy kindness permitted me but now to 
arm myself, or rather to repair my accoutrements.” 

So saying, he glanced his eye over his own person, blazing 
with gems, and adorned with a chain of gold, bracelets, rings, 
and other ornaments, which, with a new and splendid habit, 
assumed since his arrival at these Cytherean gardens, tended 
to set off his very handsome figure. 

“ I am glad,” said Agelastes, “ if you have found among 
toys, which I now never wear, and seldom made use of even 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


23 6 

when life was young with me, anything which may set off your 
natural advantages. Remember only this slight condition, 
that such of these trifles as have made part of your wearing 
apparel on this distinguished day, cannot return to a meaner 
owner, but must of necessity remain the property of that great- 
ness of which they had once formed the ornament.” 

“ I cannot consent to this, my worthy friend,” said the 
Caesar ; “ I know thou valuest these jewels only in so far as a 
philosopher may value them ; that is, for nothing save the re- 
membrances which attach to them. This large seal-ring, for 
instance, was — I have heard you say — the property of Socrates ; 
if so, you cannot view it save with devout thankfulness, that 
your own philosophy has never been tried with the exercise of 
a Xantippe. These clasps released, in older times, the lovely 
bosom of Phryne ; and they now belong to one who could do 
better homage to the beauties they concealed or discovered 
than could the cynic Diogenes. These buckles, too ” 

“ I will spare thy ingenuity, good youth,” said Agelastes, 
somewhat nettled ; “ or rather, noble Caesar. Keep thy wit — 
thou wilt have ample occasion for it.” 

“ Fear not me,” said the Caesar. “ Let us proceed, since 
you will, to exercise the gifts which we possess, such as they are, 
either natural or bequeathed to us by our dear and respected 
friend. Hah ! ” he said, the door opening suddenly, and the 
Countess almost meeting him, “ our wishes are here anticipated.” 

He bowed accordingly with the deepest deference to the 
Lady Brenhilda, who, having made some alterations to enhance 
the splendor of her attire, now moved forward from the with- 
drawing-room into which she had retreated. 

“ Hail, noble lady,” said the Caesar, “ whom I have visited 
with the intention of apologizing for detaining you, in some 
degree against your will, in those strange regions in which you 
unexpectedly find yourself.” 

“ Not in some degree,” answered the lady, “but entirely 
contrary to my inclinations, which are, to be with my husband, 
the Count of Paris, and the followers who have taken the cross 
under his banner.” 

“ Such, doubtless, were your thoughts when you left the 
land of the west,” said Agelastes ; “ but, fair Countess, have 
they experienced no change ? You have left a shore streaming 
with human blood when the slightest provocation occurred, and 
thou hast come to one whose principal maxim is to increase the 
sum of human happiness by every mode which can be invented. 
In the west yonder, he or she is respected most who can best 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


237 

exercise thch tyrannical strength in making others miserable, 
while in tnese more placid realms, we reserve our garlands for 
the ingenious youth, or lovely lady, who can best make happy 
the person whoss affection is fixed upon her.” 

“ But, reverend philosopher,” said the Countess, who la* 
borest so artificially in recommending the yoke of pleasure, 
know that you contradict every notion which I have been 
taught from my infancy. In the land where my nurture lay, 
so far are we from acknowledging your doctrines, that we 
match not, except like the lion and the lioness, when the male 
has compelled the female to acknowledge his superior worth 
and valor. Such is our rule, that a damsel, even of mean 
degree, would think herself heinously undermatched, if wedded 
to a gallant whose fame in arms was yet unknown.” 

“ But, noble lady,” said the Cassar, “ a dying man may then 
find room for some faint hope. Were there but a chance that 
distinction in arms could gain those affections which have been 
stolen, rather than fairly conferred, how many are there who 
would willingly enter into the competition where the prize is so 
fair ! What is the enterprise too bold to be undertaken on 
such a condition ! And where is the individual whose heart 
would not feel, that in baring his sword for the prize, he made 
vow never to return it to the scabbard without the proud boast, 
What I have not yet won, I have deserved ! ” 

“ You see, lady,” said Agelastes, who, apprehending that 
the last speech of the Ctesar had made some impression, hast- 
ened to follow it up with a suitable observation— “ You see that 
the fire of chivalry burns as gallantly in the bosom of the 
Grecians as in that of the western nations.” 

“ Yes,” answered Brenhilda, “ and I have heard of the cele- 
brated siege of Troy, on which occasion a dastardly coward 
carried off the wife of a brave man, shunned every proffer of 
encounter with the husband whom he had wronged, and finally 
caused the death of his numerous brothers, the destruction of 
his native city, with all the wealth which it contained, and died 
himself the death of a pitiful poltroon, lamented only by his 
worthless leman, to show how well the rules of chivalry were 
understood by your predecessors.” 

“ Lady, you mistake,” said the Caesar ; “ the offences of 
Paris were those of a dissolute Asiatic ; the courage which 
avenged them was that of the Greek Empire.” 

“ You are learned, sir,” said the lady ; “ but think not that 
I will trust your words until you produce before me a Grecian 
knight, gallant enough to look upon the armed crest of my 
husband without quaking,” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


238 

“ That, methinks, were not extremely difficult,” returned the 
Caesar ; “if they have not flattered me, I have myself been 
thought equal in battle to more dangerous men than him who 
has been strangely mated with the Lady Brenhilda.” 

“ That is soon tried,” answered the Countess. “ You will 
hardly, I think, deny, that my husband, separated from me by 
some unworthy trick, is still at thy command, and could be 
produced at thy pleasure. I will ask no armor for him save 
what he wears, no weapon but his good sword Tranchefer ; 
then place him in this chamber, or any other lists equally 
narrow, and if he flinch, or cry craven, or remain dead under 
shield, let Brenhilda be the prize of the conqueror. Merciful 
Heaven ! ” she concluded, as she sank back upon her seat, 
“ forgive me for the crime of even imaginingsuch a termination, 
which is equal almost to doubting thine unerring judgment ! ” 

“ Let me, however,” said the Caesar, “ catch up these pre- 
cious words before they fall to the ground. Let me hope that 
he, to whom the heavens shall give power and strength to con- 
quer this highly esteemed Count of Paris, shall succeed him in 
the affections of Brenhilda ; and believe me, the sun plunges 
not through the sky to his resting-place with the same celerity 
that I shall hasten to the encounter.” 

“ Now, by Heaven ! ” said Count Robert, in an anxious 
whisper to Hereward, “ it is too much to expect me to stand 
by and hear a contemptible Greek, who durst not stand even 
the rattling farewell which Tranchefer takes of his scabbard, 
brave me in my absence, and affect to make love to my lady 
par amours 1 And she, too — methinks Brenhilda allows more 
license than she is wont to do to yonder chattering popinjay. 
By the rood 1 I will spring into the apartment, front them with 
my personal appearance, and confute yonder braggart in a 
manner he is like to remember.” 

“ Under favor,” said the Varangian, who was the only 
auditor of this violent speech, “ you shall be ruled by calm 
reason while I am with you. When we are separated, let the 
devil of knight-errantry, which has such possession of thee, 
take thee upon his shoulders, and carry thee full tilt where- 
soever he lists.” 

il Thou art a brute,” said the Count, looking at him with 
a contempt corresponding to the expression he made use of ; 
“ not only without humanity, but without the sense of natural 
honor or natural shame. The most despicable of animals 
stands not by tamely and sees another assail his mate. The 
bull offers his horns to a rival — the mastiff uses his jaws — and 
even the timid stag becomes furious, and gores,” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


239 


“ Because they are beasts,” said the Varangian, “ and their 
mistresses also creatures without shame or reason, who are not 
aware of the sanctity of a choice. But thou, too, Count, canst 
thou not see the obvious purpose of this poor lady, forsaken by 
all the world, to keep her faith towards thee, by eluding the 
snares with which wicked men have beset her ? By the souls 
of my fathers ! my heart is so much moved by her ingenuity, 
mingled as I see it is with the most perfect candor and faith, 
that I myself, in fault of a better champion, would willingly 
raise the axe in her behalf ! ” 

“ I thank thee, my good friend,” said the Count ; “ I thank 
thee as heartily as if it were possible thou shouldst be left to 
do that good office for Brenhilda, the beloved of many a noble 
lord, the mistress of many a powerful vassal ; and what is 
more, much more than thanks, I crave thy pardon for the 
wrong I did thee but now.” 

“ My pardon you cannot need,” said the Varangian ; “ for 
I take no offence that is not seriously meant. — Stay, they speak 
again.” 

“ It is strange it should be so,” said the Caesar, as he paced 
the apartment ; “ but methinks, nay, I am almost certain, 
Agelastes, that I hear voices in the vicinity of this apartment of 
thy privacy.” 

“ It is impossible,” said Agelastes ; “ but I will go and see.” 

Perceiving him to leave the pavilion, the Varangian made 
the Frank sensible that they must crouch down among a little 
thicket of evergreens, where they lay completely obscured. The 
philosopher made his rounds with a heavy step, but a watchful 
eye ; and the two listeners were obliged to observe the strictest 
silence, without motion of any kind, until he had completed an 
ineffectual search, and returned into the pavilion. 

“ By my faith, brave man,” said the Count, “ ere we return 
to our skulking-place, I must tell thee in thine ear, that never, 
in my life, was temptation so strong upon me, as that which 
prompted me to beat out that old hypocrite’s brains, provided 
I could have reconciled it with my honor ; and heartily do I 
wish that thou, whose honor no way withheld thee, hadst ex- 
perienced and given way to some impulse of a similar nature.” 

“ Such fancies have passed through my head,” said the 
Varangian ; “ but I will not follow them till they are consistent 
both with our own safety, and more particularly with that of 
the Countess.” 

“ I thank thee again for thy good-will to her,” said Count 
Robert ; (( and by Heaven ! if fight we must at length, as it 


240 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


seems likely, I will neither grudge thee an honorable antagonist^ 
nor fair quarter if the combat goes against thee.” 

“ Thou hast my thanks,” was the reply of Hereward ; “ only, 
for Heaven’s sake, be silent in this conjuncture, and do what 
thou wilt afterwards.” 

Before the Varangian and the Count had again resumed 
their posture of listeners, the parties within the pavilion, con- 
ceiving themselves unwatched, had resumed their conversation, 
speaking low, yet with considerable animation : — 

“ It is in vain you would persuade me,” said the Countess, 
“ that you know not where my husband is, or that you have not 
the most absolute influence over his captivity. Who else could 
have an interest in banishing or putting to death the husband, 
but he that affects to admire the wife ? ” 

“You do me wrong, beautiful lady,” answered the Caesar, 
“ and forget that I can in no shape be termed the moving- 
spring of this empire ; that my father-in-law, Alexius, is the 
Emperor ; and that the woman who terms herself my wife is 
jealous as a fiend can be of my slightest motion. — What possi- 
bility was there that I should work the captivity of your hus- 
band and your own ? The open affront which the Count of 
Paris put upon the Emperor, was one which he was likely to 
avenge, either by secret guile or by open force. Me it no way 
touched, save as the humble vassal of thy charms ; and it was 
by the wisdom and the art of the sage Agelastes, that I was 
able to extricate thee from the gulf in which thou hadst else 
certainly perished. Nay, weep not, lady, for as yet we know 
not the fate of Count Robert ; but, credit me, it is wisdom to 
choose a better protector, and consider him as no more.” 

“Abetter than him,” said Brenhilda,” I can never have, 
were I to chose out of the knighthood of all the world ! ” 

“This hand,” said the Caesar, drawing himself into a 
martial attitude, “ should decide that question, were the man of 
whom thou thinkest so much yet moving on the face of the 
earth, and at liberty.” 

“ Thou art,” said Brenhilda, looking fixedly at him with the 
fire of indignation flashing from every feature — “ thou art — 
but it avails not telling thee what is thy real name ; believe me, 
the world shall one day ring with it, and be justly sensible of 
its value. Observe what I am about to say — Robert of Paris 
is gone — or captive, I know not where. He cannot fight the 
match of which thou seemest so desirous — but here stands 
Brenhilda, born heiress of Aspramonte, by marriage the wedded 
wife of the good Count of Paris. She was never matched in 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


241 

the list by mortal man, except the valiant Count, and since 
thou art so grieved that thou canst not meet her husband in 
battle, thou canst not surely object, if she is willing to meet 
thee in his stead ! ” 

“How, madam?” said the Caesar, astonished; “do you 
propose yourself to hold the lists against me ? ” 

“ Against you,” said the Countess ; “ against all the Grecian 
Empire, if they shall affirm that Robert of Paris is justly used 
and lawfully confined.” 

“ And are the conditions,” said the Caesar, “ the same as if 
Count Robert himself held the lists ? The vanquished must 
then be at the pleasure of the conqueror for good or evil.” 

“ It would seem so,” said the Countess, “ nor do I refuse 
the hazard ; only, that if the other champion shall bite the dust, 
the noble Count Robert shall be set at liberty, and be per- 
mitted to depart with all suitable honors.” 

“ This I refuse not, said the Caesar, “ provided it is in my 
power.” 

A deep growling sound, like that of a modern gong, here 
interrupted the conference. 


CHAPTER NINETEENTH. 

The Varangian and Count Robert, at every risk of dis- 
covery, had remained so near as fully to conjecture, though 
they could not expressly overhear, the purport of the conver- 
sation. 

“ He has accepted her challenge ! ” said the Count of Paris. 

“ And with apparent willingness,” said Hereward. 

“ O, doubtless, doubtless,” — answered the Crusader ; “ but 
he knows not the skill in war which a woman may attain. For 
my part, God knows I have enough depending upon the issue of 
this contest, yet such is my confidence that I would to God I 
had more. I vow to Our Lady of the Broken Lances, that I 
desire every furrow of land I possess — every honor which I can 
call my own, from the Countship of Paris, down to the leather 
that binds my spur, were dependent and at issue upon this fair 
field, between your Caesar, as men term him, and Brenhilda of 
Aspramonte.” 

“ It is a noble confidence,” said the Varangian, “ nor durst 
I say it is a rash one ; only I cannot but remember that the 

16 


242 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS \ 


Caesar is a strong man as well as a handsome, expert in the use 
of arms, and, above all, less strictly bound than you esteem 
yourself by the rules of honor. There are many ways in which 
advantage may be given and taken, which will not, in the 
Caesar’s estimation, alter the character of the field from an 
equal one, although it might do so in the opinion of the chival- 
rous Count of Paris, or even in that of the poor Varangian, 
But first let me conduct you to some place of safety, for your 
escape must be soon, if it is not already, detected. The sounds 
which we heard intimate that some of his confederate plotters 
have visited the garden on other than love affairs. I will guide 
thee to another avenue than that by which we entered. But 
you would hardly, I suppose, be pleased to adopt the wisest 
alternative ? ” 

“ And what may that be ? ” said the Count. 

“ To give thy purse, though it were thine all, to some poor 
ferryman to waft thee over the Hellespont, then hasten to carry 
thy complaint to Godfrey of Bouillon, and what friends thou 
mayst have among thy brethren crusaders, and determine, as 
thou easily canst, on a sufficient number of them to come back 
and menace the city with instant war, unless the Emperor 
should deliver up thy lady, most unfairly made prisoner, and 
prevent, by his authority, this absurd and unnatural combat.” 

“ And would you have me, then,” said Count Robert, “ move 
the crusaders to break a fairly appointed field of battle ? Do 
you think that Godfrey of Bouillon would turn back upon his 
pilgrimage for such an unworthy purpose ; or that the Countess 
of Paris would accept as a service, means of safety which would 
stain her honor forever, by breaking an appointment solemnly 
made on her own challenge ? — Never ! ” 

“ My judgment is then at fault,” said the Varangian, “ for I 
see I can hammer out no expedient which is not, in some ex- 
travagant manner or another, controlled by your foolish notions. 
Here is a man who has been trapped into the power of his 
enemy, that he might not interfere to prevent a base stratagem 
upon his lady, involving both her life and honor ; yet he thinks 
it a matter of necessity that he keeps faith as precisely with 
these midnight poisoners, as he would had it been pledged to 
the most honorable men ! ” 

“ Thou say’st a painful truth,” said Count Robert ; “ but 
my word is the emblem of my faith ; and if I pass it to a dis- 
honorable or faithless foe, it is imprudently done on my part. ; 
but if I break it, being once pledged, it is a dishonorable action, 
and the disgrace can never be washed from my shield.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS, 


243 

“ Do you mean, then,” said the Varangian, “ to suffer your 
wife’s honor to remain pledged, as it at present is, on the event 
of an unequal combat ? ” 

“ God and the saints pardon thee such a thought ! ” said 
the Count of Paris. “ I will go to see this combat with a heart 
as firm, if not as light, as any time I ever saw spears splintered. 
If by the influence of any accident or treachery, — for fairly, 
and with such an antagonist, Brenhilda of Aspramonte cannot 
be overthrown, — I step into the lists, proclaim the Caesar as he 
is — a villain — show the falsehood of his conduct from beginning 
to end, — appeal to every noble heart that hears me, and then — 
God show the right ! ” 

Hereward paused, and shook his head. “All this,” he 
said, “might be feasible enough, provided the combat were to 
be fought in the presence of your own countrymen, or even, by 
the mass ! if the Varangians were to be guards of the lists. 
But treachery of every kind is so familiar to the Greeks, that I 
question if they would view the conduct of their Caesar as any- 
thing else than a pardonable and natural stratagem of Dan 
Cupid, to be smiled at, rather than subjected to disgrace or 
punishment.” 

“A nation,” said Count Robert, “who could smile at such 
a jest, may Heaven refuse them sympathy at their utmost need, 
when their sword is broken in their hand, and their wives and 
daughters shrieking in the relentless grasp of a barbarous 
enemy ! ” 

Hereward looked upon his companion, whose flushed 
cheeks and sparkling eyes bore witness to his enthusiasm. 

“ I see,” he said, “ you are resolved, and I know that your 
resolution can in justice be called by no other name than an 
act of heroic folly — What then ? it is long since life has been 
bitter to the Varangian exile. Morn has raised him from a joy- 
less bed, which night has seen him lie down upon, wearied 
with wielding a mercenary weapon in the wars of strangers. 
He has longed to lay down his life in an honorable cause, and 
this is one in which the extremity and very essence of honor is 
implicated. It tallies also with my scheme of saving the Em- 
peror, which will be greatly facilitated by the downfall of his 
ungrateful son-in-law.” Then, addressing himself to the Count, 
he continued, “ Well, Sir Count, as thou art the person principally 
concerned, I am willing to yield to thy reasoning in this affair ; 
but I hope you will permit me to mingle with your resolution 
some advices of a more everyday and less fantastic nature. 
For example, thy escape from the dungeons of the Blacquernal 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


244 

must soon be generally known. In prudence, indeed, I myself 
must be the first to communicate it, since otherwise the sus- 
picion will fall on me— Where do you think of concealing your- 
self ? for assuredly the search will be close and general.” 

“ For that,” said the Count of Paris, “ I must be indebted 
to thy suggestion, with thanks for every lie which thou findest 
thyself obliged to make, to contrive, and produce in my behalf, 
entreating thee only to render them as few as possible, they 
being a coin which I myself never fabricate.” 

“ Sir knight,” answered Hereward, “ let me begin first by 
saying that no knight that ever belted sword is more a slave to 
truth, when truth is observed towards him, than the poor soldier 
who talks to thee ; but when the game depends not upon fair 
play, but upon lulling men’s cautiousness asleep by falsehood, 
and drugging their senses by opiate draughts, they who would 
scruple at no means of deceiving me, can hardly expect that I, 
who am paid in such base money, should pass nothing on my 
part but what is lawful and genuine. For the present thou 
must remain concealed within my poor apartment, in the barracks 
of the Varangians, which is the last place where they will think 
of seeking for thee. Take this, my upper cloak, and follow me ; 
and now that we are about to leave these gardens, thou mayst 
follow me unsuspected as a sentinel attending his officer ; for, 
take it along with you, noble Count, that we Varangians are a 
sort of persons upon yvhom the Greeks care not to look very 
long or fixedly.” 

They now reached the gate where they had been admitted by 
the n egress, and Hereward, who was intrusted with the power, 
it seems, of letting himself out of the philosopher’s premises, 
though not of entering without assistance from the portress, 
took out a key which turned the lock on the garden side, so that 
they soon found themselves at liberty. They then proceeded 
by by-paths through the city, Hereward leading the way, and 
the Count following, without speech or remonstrance, until they 
stood before the portal of the barracks of the Varangians. 

“ Make haste,” said the sentinel who was on duty, “ dinner 
is already begun.” The communication sounded joyfully in 
the ears of Hereward, who was much afraid that his companion 
might have been stopped and examined. By a side passage he 
reached his own quarters, and introduced the Count into a 
small room, the sleeping chamber of his squire, where he apol- 
ogized for leaving him for some time ; and, going out, locked 
the door, for fear, as he said, of intrusion. 

The demon of suspicion was not very likely to molest a mind 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


245 

so frankly constituted as that of Count Robert, and yet the 
last action of Hereward did not fail to occasion some painful 
reflections. 

“ This man/’ he said, “had needs be true, for I have reposed 
in him a mighty trust, which few hirelings in his situation would 
honorably discharge. What is to prevent him to report to the 
principal officer of his watch, that the Frank prisoner, Robert, 
Count of Paris, whose wife stands engaged for so desperate a 
combat with the Caesar, has escaped, indeed, this morning, 
from the prisons of the Blacquernal, but has suffered himself 
to be trepanned at noon, and is again a captive in the barracks 
of the Varangian Guard ? — what means of defence are mine, 
were I discovered to these mercenaries ?— What man could do, 
by the favor of Our Lady of the Broken Lances, I have not 
failed to achieve. I have slain a tiger in single combat — I 
have killed one warder, and conquered the desperate and 
gigantic creature by whom he was supported. I have had 
terms enough at command to bring over this Varangian to my 
side, in appearance at least ; yet all this does not encourage ma 
to hope that I could long keep at bay ten or a dozen such men 
as these beef-fed knaves appear to be, led in upon me by a 
fellow of thews and sinews such as those of my late com- 
panion. — Yet for shame, Robert ! such thoughts are unworthy 
a descendant of Charlemagne. When wert thou wont so curi- 
ously to count thine enemies, and when wert thou wont to be 
suspicious, since he, whose bosom may truly boast itself inca- 
pable of fraud, ought in honesty to be the last to expect it in 
another ? The Varangian’s look is open, his coolness in danger 
is striking, his speech is more frank and ready than ever was 
that of a traitor. If he is false, there is no faith in the hand 
of nature, for truth, sincerity, and courage, are written upon his 
forehead.” 

While Count Robert was thus reflecting upon his condition, 
and combating the thick-coming doubts and suspicions which 
its uncertainties gave rise to, he began to be sensible that he 
had not eaten for many hours ; and amidst many doubts and 
fears of a more heroic nature, he half entertained a lurking 
suspicion that they meant to let hunger undermine his strength 
before they adventured into the apartment to deal with him. 

We shall best see how far these doubts were deserved by 
Hereward, or how far they were unjust, by following his course 
after he left his barrack-room. Snatching a morsel of dinner, 
which he ate with an affectation of great hunger, but, in fact, 
that his attention to his food might be a pretence for dispensing 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


246 

with disagreeable questions, or with conversation of any kind, 
he pleaded duty, and immediately leaving his comrades, directed 
his course to the lodgings of Achilles Tatius, which were a part 
of the same building. A Syrian slave, who opened the door, 
after a deep reverence to Hereward, whom he knew as a 
favorite attendant of the Acolyte, said to him that his master 
was gone forth, but had desired him to say, that if he wished 
to see him, he would find him at the Philosopher’s Gardens, so 
called as belonging to the sage Agelastes. 

Hereward turned about instantly, and, availing himself of his 
knowledge of Constantinople to thread its streets in the shortest 
time possible, at length stood alone before the door in the 
garden-wall, at which he and the Count of Paris had previously 
been admitted in the earlier part of the day. The same negress 
appeared at the same private signal, and when he asked for 
Achilles Tatius, she replied, with some sharpness, “ Since you 
were here this morning, I marvel you did not meet him, or that, 
having business with him, you did not stay till he arrived. 
Sure I am, that not long after you entered the garden the 
Acolyte was inquiring for you.” 

“It skills not, old woman,” said the Varangian ; “I com- 
municate the reason of my motions to my commander, but not 
to thee.” He entered the garden accordingly, and avoiding 
the twilight path that led to the Bower of Love, — so was the 
pavilion named in which he had overheard the dialogue between 
the Caesar and the Countess of Paris, — he arrived before a 
simple garden-house, whose humble and modest front seemed 
to announce that it was the abode of philosophy and learning. 
Here, passing before the windows, he made some little noise, 
expecting to attract the attention either of Achilles Tatius, or 
his accomplice Agelastes, as chance should determine. It was 
the first who heard, and who replied. The door opened; a 
lofty plume stooped itself, that its owner might cross the 
threshold, and the stately form of Achilles Tatius entered the 
gardens, “What now,” he said, “our trusty sentinel ! what 
hast thou, at this time of day, come to report to us ? Thou art 
our good friend, and highly esteemed soldier, and well we wot 
thine errand must be of importance, since thou hast brought it 
thyself and at an hour so unusual.” 

“ Pray Heaven,” said Hereward,” that the news I have 
brought deserve a welcome.” 

“ Speak then instantly,” said the Acolyte, “ good or bad ; 
thou speakest to a man to whom fear is unknown.” But his 
eye, which quailed as he looked on the soldier — his color. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


247 

which went and came — his hands, which busied themselves in 
an uncertain manner in adjusting the belt of his sword, — all 
argued a state of mind very different from that which his tone 
of defiance would fain have implied. “ Courage,” he said, 
“my trusty soldier! speak the news to me. I can bear the 
worst thou hast to tell.” 

“In a word, then,” said the Varangian, “your Valor 
directed me this morning to play the office of master of the 
rounds upon those dungeons of the Blacquernal palace, where 
last night the boisterous Count Robert of Paris was incar- 
cerated- ” 

“ I remember well,” said Achilles Tatius. — “ What then ?” 

“ As I reposed me,” said Hereward, “ in an apartment above 
the vaults, I heard cries from beneath, of a kind which attracted 
my attention. I hastened to examine, and my surprise was 
extreme, when looking down into the dungeon, though I could 
see nothing distinctly, yet by the wailing and whimpering 
sounds, I conceived that the Man of the Forest, the animal 
called Sylvan, whom the soldiers have so far indoctrinated in 
our Saxon tongue as to make him useful in the wards of the 
prison, was bemoaning himself on account of some violent 
injury. Descending with a torch, I found the bed on which 
the prisoner had been let down burnt to cinders ; the tiger 
which had been chained within a spring of it, with its skull 
broken to pieces ; the creature called Sylvan, prostrate, and 
writhing under great pain and terror, and no prisoner whatever 
in the dungeon. There were marks that all the fastenings had 
been withdrawn by a Mitylenian soldier, companion of my 
watch, when he visited the dungeon at the usual hour ; and as, 
in my anxious search, I at length found his dead body, slain 
apparently by a stab in the throat, I was obliged to believe 
that while I was examining the cell, he, this Count Robert, 
with whose daring life the adventure is well consistent, had 
escaped to the upper air, by means, doubtless, of the ladder and 
trap-door by which I had descended.” 

“ And wherefore didst thou not instantly call treason, and 
raise the hue and cry ? ” demanded the Acolyte. 

“ I dared not venture to do so,” replied the Varangian, “ till 
I had instructions from your Valor. The alarming cry of 
treason, and the various rumors likely at this moment to ensue, 
might have involved a search so close, as perchance would have 
discovered matters in which the Acolyte himself would have 
been rendered subject to suspicion.” 

“ Thou art right,” said Achilles Tatius, in a whisper ; “ and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


248 

yet it will be necessary that we do not pretend any longer to 
conceal the flight of this important prisoner, if we would not 
pass for being his accomplices. Where thinkest thou this un- 
happy fugitive can have taken refuge ? ” 

“ That I was in hopes of learning from your Valor’s greater 
wisdom,” said Hereward. 

“ Thinkest thou not,” said Achilles, “ that he may have 
crossed the Hellespont, in order to rejoin his own countrymen 
and adherents ? ” 

“It is much to be dreaded,” said Hereward. “Undoubt- 
edly, if the Count listened to the advice of any one who knew 
the face of the country, such would be the very counsel he would 
receive.” 

“ The danger, then, of his return at the head of a vengeful 
body of Franks,” said the Acolyte, “ is not so immediate as I 
apprehended at first, for the Emperor gave positive orders that 
the boats and galleys which yesterday transported the crusaders 
to the shores of Asia, should recross the strait, and bring back 
no single one of them from the step upon their journey on 
which he had so far furthered them. — Besides, they all, — their 
leaders, that is to say, — made their vows before crossing, that 
they would not turn back so much as a foot’s pace, now that 
they had set actually forth on the road to Palestine.” 

“ So, therefore,” said Hereward, “ one of two propositions 
is unquestionable ; either Count Robert is on the eastern side 
of the strait, having no means of returning with his brethren 
to avenge the usage he has received, and may therefore be 
securely set at defiance, — or else he lurks somewhere in Con- 
stantinople, without a friend or ally to take his part, or encourage 
him openly to state his supposed wrongs ; — in either case, there 
can, I think, be no tact in conveying to the palace the news 
that he has freed himself, since it would only alarm the court, 
and afford the Emperor ground for many suspicions. — But it is 
not for an ignorant barbarian like me to prescribe a course of 
conduct to your valor and wisdom, and methinks the sage 
Agelastes were a fitter counsellor than such as I am.” 

“ No, no, no,” said the Acolyte, in a hurried whisper ; “ the 
philosopher and I are right good friends, sworn good friends, 
very especially bound together ; but should it come to this, 
that one of us must needs throw before the footstool of the 
Emperor the head of the other, I think thou wouldst not advise 
that I, whose hairs have not a trace of silver, should be the last 
in making the offering ; therefore we will say nothing of this 
mishap, but give thee full power, and the highest charge to seek 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS, 


249 

for Count Robert of Paris, be he dead or alive, to secure him 
within the dungeons set apart for the discipline of our own corps, 
and when thou hast done so, to bring me notice. I may make 
him my friend in many ways, by extricating his wife from dan- 
ger by the axes of my Varangians. What is there in this me- 
tropolis that they have to oppose them ? ” 

“ When raised in a just cause,” answered Hereward, “ noth- 
ing.” 

“ Hah ! — say’st thou ? ” said the Acolyte ; “ how meanest 
thou by that ? — but I know — Thou art scrupulous about having 
the just and lawful command of thy officer in every action in 
which thou art engaged, and thinking in that dutiful and soldier- 
like manner, it is my duty as thine Acolyte to see thy scruples 
satisfied. A warrant shalt thou have, with full powers, to seek 
for and imprison this foreign Count of whom we have been 
speaking — And, hark thee, my excellent friend,” he continued, 
with some hesitation, “ I think thou hadst better begone, and 
begin, or rather continue, thy search. It is unnecessary to inform 
our friend Agelastes of what has happened, until his advice be 
more needful than as yet it is on the occasion. Home — home 
to the barracks ; I will account to him for thy appearance here, 
if he be curious on the subject, which, as a suspicious old man, 
he is likely to be. Go to the barracks, and act as if thou hadst 
a warrant in every respect full and ample. I will provide thee 
with one when I come back to my quarters.” 

The Varangian turned hastily homewards. 

“ Now, is it not,” he said, “ a strange thing, and enough to 
make a man a rogue for life — to observe how the devil encour- 
ages young beginners in falsehood ! I have told a greater lie 
— at least I have suppressed more truth — than on any occasion 
before in my whole life — and what is the consequence ? Why, 
my commander throws almost at my head a warrant sufficient 
to guarantee and protect me in all I have done, or propose to 
do ! If the foul fiend were thus regular in protecting his 
votaries, methinks they would have little reason to complain 
of him, or better men to be astonished at their number. But 
a time comes, they say, when he seldom fails to desert them. 
Therefore, get thee behind me, Satan ! If I have seemed to 
be thy servant for a short time, it is but with an honest and 
Christian purpose.” 

As he entertained these thoughts, he looked back upon the 
path, and was startled at an apparition of a creature of a much 
greater size and a stranger shape than human, covered, all but 
the face, with a reddish dun fur ; his expression an ugly, and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


250 

yet a sad melancholy ; a cloth was wrapped around one hand, 
and an air of pain and languor bespoke suffering from a wound. 
So much was Here ward pre-occupied with his own reflections, 
that at first he thought his imagination had actually raised the 
devil ; but, after a sudden start of surprise, he recognized his 
acquaintance Sylvan. “ Hah, old friend,” he said, “ I am happy 
thou hast made thy escape to a place where thou wilt find plenty 
of fruit to support thee. Take my advice — keep out of the way 
of discovery — Keep thy friend’s counsel.” 

The Man of the Wood uttered a chattering noise in return 
to the address. 

“ I understand thee,” said Hereward ; “ thou wilt tell no 
tales, thou sayest ; and faith, I will trust thee rather than the 
better part of my own two-legged race, who are eternally cir- 
cumventing or murdering each other.” 

A minute after the creature was out of sight, Hereward 
heard the shriek of a female, and a voice which cried for help. 
The accents must have been uncommonly interesting to the 
Varangian, since, forgetting his own dangerous situation, he 
immediately turned and flew to the suppliant’s assistance. 


CHAPTER TWENTIETH. 

She comes ! she comes ! in all the charms of youth, 

Unequall’d love, and unsuspected truth 1 

Hereward was not long in tracing the cry through the 
wooded walks, when a female rushed into his arms ; alarmed, as 
it appeared, by Sylvan, who was pursuing her closely. The 
figure of Hereward, with his axe uplifted, put an instant stop to 
his career, and with a terrified note of his native cries, he with- 
drew into the thickest of the adjoining foliage. 

Relieved from his presence, Hereward had time to look at 
the female whom he had succored: She was arrayed in a 
dress which consisted of several colors, that which predomi- 
nated being a pale yellow ; her tunic was of this color, and, like 
a modern gown, was closely fitted to the body, which, in the 
present case, was that of a tall, but very well-formed person. 
The mantle, or upper garment, in which the whole figure was 
wrapped, was of fine cloth ; and the kind of hood which was 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


25 * 

attached to it, having flown back with the rapidity of her motion, 
gave to view the hair beautifully adorned and twisted into a 
natural head-dress. Beneath this natural head-gear appeared 
a face pale as death, from a sense of the supposed danger, but 
which preserved, even amidst its terrors, an exquisite degree of 
beauty. 

Hereward was thunderstruck at this apparition. The dress 
was neither Grecian, Italian, nor of the costume of the Franks ; 
— it was Saxon ! — connected by a thousand tender remembran- 
ces with Hereward’s childhood and youth. The circumstance 
was most extraordinary. Saxon women, indeed, there were in 
Constantinople who had united their fortunes with those of the 
Varangians ; and those often chose to wear their national dress 
in the city, because the character and conduct of their husbands 
secured them a degree of respect, which they might not have 
met with either as Grecian or as stranger females of a similar 
rank. But almost all these were personally known to Here- 
ward. It was no time, however, for reverie — he was himself 
in danger — the situation of the young female might be no safe 
one. In every case, it was judicious to quit the more public 
part of the gardens ; he therefore lost not a moment in con- 
veying the fainting Saxon to a retreat he fortunately was 
acquainted with. A covered path, obscured by vegetation, led 
through a species of labyrinth to an artificial cave, at the bottom 
of which, half-paved with shells, moss, and spar, lay the gigan- 
tic and half-recumbent statue of a river deity, with its usual 
attributes — that is, its front crowned with water-lilies and 
sedges, and its ample hand half resting upon an empty urn. 
The attitude of the whole figure corresponded with the motto, 
— “ I SLEEP — AWAKE ME NOT.” 

“ Accursed relic of paganism,” said Hereward, who was, in 
proportion to his light, a zealous Christian — “brutish stock or 
stone that thou art ! I will wake thee with a vengeance.” So 
saying, he struck the head of the slumbering deity with his 
battle-axe, and deranged the play of the fountain so much that 
the water began to pour into the basin. 

“ Thou art a good block, nevertheless,” said the Varangian, 
“ to send succor so needful to the aid of my poor country- 
woman. Thou shalt give her also, with thy leave, a portion of 
thy couch. So saying, he arranged his fair burden, who was 
as yet insensible, upon the pedestal where the figure of the 
River God reclined. In doing this, his attention was recalled 
to her face, and again and again he was thrilled with an emo< 
tion of hope, but so excessively like fear, that it could only be 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


252 

compared to the flickering of a torch, uncertain whether it is to 
light up or be instantly extinguished. With a sort of mechani- 
cal attention, he continued to make such efforts as he could to 
recall the intellect of the beautiful creature before him. His 
feelings were those of the astronomical sage, to whom the rise 
of the moon slowly restores the contemplation of that heaven, 
which is at once, as a Christian, his hope of felicity, and, as a 
philosopher, the source of his knowledge. The blood returned 
to her cheek, and reanimation, and even recollection, took 
place in her earlier than in the astonished Varangian. 

“ Blessed Mary ! ” she said, “ have I indeed tasted the last 
bitter cup, and is it here where thou reunitest thy votaries after 
death ! — Speak, Hereward ; if thou art aught but an empty 
creature of the imagination ! — speak, and tell me, if I have but 
dreamed of that monstrous ogre 1 ” 

“ Collect thyself, my beloved Bertha,” said the Anglo- 
Saxon, .recalled by the sound of her voice, “ and prepare to 
endure what thou livest to witness, and thy Hereward survives 
to tell. That hideous thing exists — nay, do not start, and look 
for a hiding-place — thy own gentle hand with a riding rod is 
sufficient to tame its courage. And am I not here, Bertha ? 
Wouldst thou wish another safeguard ? ” 

“ No — no,” exclaimed she, seizing on the arm of her 
recovered lover. Do I not know you now ? ” 

“ And is it but now you know me, Bertha ? ” said Hereward. 

“ I suspected before,” she said, casting down her eyes ; 
“ but I know with certainty that mark of the boar’s tusk.” 

Hereward suffered her imagination to clear itself from the 
shock it had received so suddenly, before he ventured to enter 
upon present events in which there was so much both to doubt 
and to fear. He permitted her, therefore, to recall to her 
memory all the circumstances of the rousing the hideous 
animal, assisted by the tribes of both their fathers. She men- 
tioned in broken words the flight of arrows discharged against 
the boar by young and old, male and female, and how her own well 
aimed, but feeble shaft, wounded him sharply ; she forgot not 
how, incensed at the pain, the creature rushed upon her as the 
cause, laid her palfrey dead upon the spot, and would soon 
have slain her, had not Hereward, when every attempt failed 
to bring his horse up to the monster, thrown himself from his 
seat, and interposed personally between the boar and Bertha. 
The battle was not decided without a desperate struggle ; the 
boar was slain, but Hereward received the deep gash upon his 
brow which she whom he had saved now recalled to her 













COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


253 

memory. “ Alas ! ” she said, “ what have we been to each 
other since that period ? and what are we now in this foreign 
land?” 6 

“ Answer for thyself, my Bertha,” said the Varangian, “ if 
thou canst ; — and if thou canst with truth say that thou art 
the same Bertha who vowed affection to Hereward, believe 
me, it were sinful to suppose that the saints have brought us 
together with a view of our being afterwards separated.” 

“ Hereward,” said Bertha, “ you have not preserved the 
bird in your bosom safer than I have ; at home or abroad, in 
servitude or in freedom, amidst sorrow or joy, plenty or want, 
my thought was always on the troth I had plighted to Here- 
ward at the stone of Odin.’* 

“ Say no more of that,” said Hereward ; “ it was an 
impious rite, and good could not come of it.” 

“ Was it then so impious ? ” she said, the unbidden tear 
rushing into her large blue eyes. — “ Alas ! it was a pleasure to 
reflect that Hereward was mine by that solemn engagement ! ” 

“ Listen to me, my Bertha,” said Hereward, taking her 
hand: “ We were, then almost children ; and though our vow 
was in itself innocent, yet it was so far wrong, as being sworn 
in the presence of a dumb idol, representing one who was, 
while alive, a bloody and cruel magician. But we will, the 
instant an opportunity offers itself, renew our vow before a 
shrine of real sanctity, and promise suitable penance for our 
ignorant acknowledgment of Odin, to propitiate the real 
Deity, who can bear us through those storms of adversity 
which are like to surround us.” 

Leaving them for the time to their love-discourse, of a 
nature pure, simple, and interesting, we shall give, in a few 
words, all that the reader needs to know of their separate his- 
tory between the boar’s hunt and the time of their meeting in 
the gardens of Agelastes. 

In that doubtful state experienced by outlaws, Waltheoff, 
the father of Hereward, and Engelred, the parent of Bertha, 
used to assemble their unsubdued tribes, sometimes in the 
fertile regions of Devonshire, sometimes in the dark wooded 
solitudes of Hampshire, but as much as possible within the 
call of the bugle of the famous Edric the Forester, so long 
leader of the insurgent Saxons. The chiefs we have mentioned 
were among the last bold men who asserted the independence 
of the Saxon race of England ; and, like their captain Edric, 
they were generally known by the name of Foresters, as men 
who lived by hunting, when their power of making excursion* 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS \ 


254 

was checked and repelled. Hence they made a step back 
wards in civilization, and became more like to their remote 
ancestors of German descent, than they were to their more 
immediate and civilized predecessors, who, before the battle of 
Hastings, had advanced considerably in the arts of civilized 
life. 

Old superstitions had begun to revive among them, and 
hence the practice of youths and maidens plighting their troth 
at the stone circles dedicated, as it was supposed, to Odin, in 
whom, however, they had long ceased to nourish any of the 
sincere belief which was entertained by their heathen ancestors. 

In another respect these outlaws were fast resuming a 
striking peculiarity of the ancient Germans. Their circum- 
stances naturally brought the youth of both sexes much 
together, and by early marriage, or less permanent connections, 
the population would have increased far beyond the means 
which the outlaws had to maintain, or even to protect them- 
selves. The laws of the Foresters, therefore, strictly enjoined 
that marriages should be prohibited until the bridegroom was 
twenty-one years complete. Future alliances, were indeed often 
formed by the young people, nor was this discountenanced by 
their parents, provided that the lovers waited until the period 
when the majority of the bridegroom should permit them to 
marry. Such youths as infringed this rule, incurred the dishonor- 
able epithet of niddering ; or worthless, — an epithet of a nature 
so insulting, that men were known to have slain themselves, 
rather than endure life under such opprobrium But the 
offenders were very few amidst a race trained in moderation 
and self-denial ; and hence it was that woman, worshipped for 
so many years like something sacred, was received, when she 
became the head of a family, into the arms and heart of a hus- 
band who had so long expected her, was treated as something 
more elevated than the mere idol of the moment ; and, feeling 
the rate at which she was valued, endeavored by her actions 
to make her life correspond with it. 

It was by the whole population of these tribes, as well as 
their parents, that after the adventure of the boar hunt, Here- 
ward and Bertha were considered as lovers whose alliance was 
pointed out by Heaven, and they were encouraged to approxi- 
mate as much as their mutual inclinations prompted them. 
The youths of the tribe avoided asking Bertha’s hand at the 
dance, and the maidens used no maidenly entreaty or artifice 
to detain Hereward beside them, if Bertha was present at the 
feast. They kissed each other’s hands through the perforated 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


255 

stone, which they called the altar of Odin, though later ages 
have ascribed it to the Druids, and they implored that if they 
broke their faith to each other, their fault might be avenged 
by the twelve swords which were now drawn around them 
during the ceremony by as many youths, and that their misfor- 
tunes might be so many as twelve maidens who stood around 
with their hair loosened, should be unable to recount, either in 
prose or verse. 

The torch of the Saxon Cupid shone for some years as bril- 
liant as when it was first lighted. The time, however, came 
when they were to be tried by adversity, though undeserved by 
the perfidy of either. Years had gone past, and Hereward had 
to count with anxiety how many months and weeks were to 
separate him from the bride, who was beginning already by 
degrees to shrink less shyly from the expressions and caresses 
of one who was soon to term her all his own. William Rufus, 
however, had formed a plan of totally extirpating the Foresters, 
whose implacable hatred, and restless love of freedom, had so 
often disturbed the quiet of his kingdom, and despised his forest 
laws. He assembled his Norman forces, and united to them a 
body of Saxons who had submitted to his rule. He thus brought 
an overpowering force upon the bands of Waltheoff and Engelred, 
who found no resource but to throw the females of their tribe, 
and such as could not bear arms, into a convent dedicated to St. 
Augustin, of which Kenelm their relation was prior, and then, 
turning to the battle, vindicated their ancient valor by fighting 
it to the last. Both the unfortunate chiefs remained dead on 
the field, and Hereward and his brother had well-nigh shared 
their fate ; but some Saxon inhabitants of the neighborhood, 
who adventured on the field of battle, which the victors had 
left bare of everything save the booty of the kites and the ra- 
vens, found the bodies of the youths still retaining life. As they 
were generally well known and much beloved by these people, 
Hereward and his brother were taken care of till their wounds 
began to close, and their strength returned. Hereward then 
heard the doleful news of the death of his father and Engelred. 
His next inquiry was concerning his betrothed bride and her 
mother. The poor inhabitants could give him little informa- 
tion. Some of the females who had taken refuge in the convent, 
the Norman knights and nobles had seized upon as their slaves, 
and the rest, with the monks who had harbored them, were 
turned adrift, and their place of retreat was completely sacked 
and burned to the ground. 

Half-dead himself at hearing these tidings, Hereward sallied 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


256 

out, and at every risk of death, for the Saxon Foresters were 
treated as outlaws, commenced inquiries after those so dear to 
him. He asked concerning the particular fate of Bertha and 
her mother, among the miserable creatures who yet hovered 
about the neighborhood of the convent, like a few half-scorched 
bees about their smothered hive. But, in the magnitude of 
their own terrors, none had retained eyes for their neighbors, 
and all that they could say was, that the wife and daughter of 
Engelred were certainly lost ; and their imaginations suggested 
so many heart-rending details to this conclusion, that Hereward 
gave up all thoughts of farther researches, likely to terminate 
so uselessly and so horribly. 

The young Saxon had been all his life bred up in a patriotic 
hatred to the Normans, who did not, it was likely, become dearer 
to his thoughts in consequence of this victory. He dreamed at 
first of crossing the strait, to make war against the hated enemy 
in their own country ; but an idea so extravagant did not long 
retain possession of his mind. His fate was decided by his en- 
countering an aged palmer, who knew, or pretended to have 
known, his father, and to be a native of England. This man 
was a disguised Varangian, selected for the purpose, possessed 
of art and dexterity, and well provided with money. He had 
little difficulty in persuading Hereward, in the hopeless desola- 
tion of his condition, to join the Varangian Guard, at this mo- 
ment at war with the Normans, under which name it suited 
Hereward’s prepossessions to represent the Emperor's wars 
with Robert Guiscard, his son Bohemond, and other advent- 
urers, in Italy, Greece, or Sicily. A journey to the East also 
inferred a pilgrimage, and gave the unfortunate Hereward the 
chance of purchasing pardon for his sins by visiting the Holy 
Land. In gaining Hereward, the recruiter also secured the 
services of his elder brother, who had vowed not to separate 
from him. 

The high character of both brothers for courage induced 
this wily agent to consider them as a great prize, and it was 
from the memoranda respecting the history and character of 
those whom he recruited, in which the elder had been unre- 
servedly communicative, that Agelastes picked up the informa- 
tion respecting Hereward’s family and circumstances, which, at 
their first secret interview, he made use of to impress upon the 
Varangian the idea of his supernatural knowledge. Several of 
his companions in arms were thus gained over ; for it will 
easily be guessed, that these memorials were intrusted to the 
keeping of Achilles Tatius, and he, to further their joint pur- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


2 57 

poses, imparted them to Agelastes, who thus obtained a general 
credit for supernatural knowledge among these ignorant men. 
But Hereward’s blunt faith and honesty enabled him to shun 
the snare. 

Such being the fortunes of Hereward, those of Bertha 
formed the subject of a broken and passionate communication 
between the lovers, broken like an April day, and mingled with 
many a tender caress, such as modesty permits to lovers when 
they meet again unexpectedly after a separation, which threat- 
ened to be eternal. But the story may be comprehended in 
few words. Amid the general sack of the monastery, an old 
Norman knight seized upon Bertha as his prize. Struck with 
her beauty, he designed her as an attendant upon his daughter, 
just then come out of the years of childhood, and the very 
apple of her father’s eye, being the only child of his beloved 
Countess, and sent late in life to bless their marriage bed. It 
was in the order of things that the Lady of Aspramonte, who 
was considerably younger than the knight, should govern her 
husband, and that Brenhilda, their daughter, should govern 
both her parents. 

The Knight of Aspramonte, however, it may be observed, 
entertained some desire to direct his young offspring to more 
feminine amusements than those which began already to put 
her life frequently in danger. Contradiction was not to be 
thought of, as the good old knight knew by experience. The 
influence and example of a companion a little older than her- 
self might be of some avail, and it was with that view that, in 
the confusion of the sack, Aspramonte seized upon the youth- 
ful Bertha. Terrified to the utmost degree, she clung to her 
mother, and the Knight of Aspramonte, who had a softer heart 
than was then usually found under a steel cuirass, moved by 
the affliction of the mother and daughter, and recollecting that 
the former might also be a useful attendant upon his lady, ex- 
tended his protection to both, and, conveying them out of the 
press, paid the soldiers who ventured to dispute the spoil with 
him, partly in some small pieces of money, and partly in dry 
blows with the reverse of his lance. 

The well-natured knight soon after returned to his own 
castle, and being a man of an orderly life and virtuous habits, 
the charming beauties of the Saxon virgin, and the more 
ripened charms of her mother, did not prevent their travelling 
in all honor as well as safety to this family fortress, the castle 
of Aspramonte. Here such masters as could be procured were 
got together to teach the young Bertha every sort of female 

i7 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


258 

accomplishment, in the hope that her mistress, Brenhilda, might 
be inspired with a desire to partake in her education ; but 
although this so far succeeded, that the Saxon captive became 
highly skilled in such music, needle-work, and other female 
accomplishments as were known to the time, yet her young 
mistress, Brenhilda, retained the taste for those martial amuse- 
ments which had so sensibly grieved her father, but to which 
her mother, who herself had nourished such fancies in her 
youth, readily gave sanction. 

The captives, however, were kindly treated. Brenhilda be- 
came infinitely attached to the young Anglo-Saxon, whom she 
loved less for her ingenuity in arts, than for her activity in field 
sports, to which her early state of independence had trained 
her. 

The Lady of Aspramonte was also kind to both the cap- 
tives ; but, in one particular, she exercised a piece of petty 
tyranny over them. She had imbibed an idea, strengthened 
by an old doting father confessor, that the Saxons were hea- 
thens at that time, or at least heretics, and made a positive point 
with her husband that the bondswoman and girl who were to 
attend on her person and that of her daughter, should be qual- 
ified for the office by being anew admitted into the Christian 
Church by baptism. 

Though feeling the falsehood and injustice of the accusation, 
the mother had sense enough to submit to necessity, and re- 
ceived the name of Martha in all form at the altar, to which 
she answered during the rest of her life. 

But Bertha showed a character upon this occasion incon- 
sistent with the general docility and gentleness of her temper. 
She boldly refused to be admitted anew into the pale of the 
Church, of which her conscience told her she was already a 
member, or to exchange for another the name originally given 
her at the font. It was in vain that the old knight commanded, 
that the lady threatened, and that her mother advised and en- 
treated. More closely pressed in private by her mother, she 
let her motive be known, which had not before been suspected, 
“ I know,” she said, with a flood of tears, “ that my father 
would have died ere I was subjected to this insult ; and then— 
who shall assure me that vows which were made to the Saxon 
Bertha, will be binding if a French Agatha be substituted in 
her stead ? They may banish me,” she said, “ or kill me if 
they will, but if the son of Waltheoff should again meet with 
the daughter of Engelred, he shall meet that Bertha whom he 
Smew in the forests of Hampton.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


259 

All argument was in vain ; the Saxon maiden remained ob- 
stinate, and to try to break her resolution, the Lady of Aspra- 
monte at length spoke of dismissing her from the service of her 
young mistress, and banishing her from the castle. To this 
also she had made up her mind, and she answered firmly, 
though respectfully, that she would sorrow bitterly at parting 
with her young lady ; but as to the rest, she would rather beg 
under her own name, than be recreant to the faith of her 
fathers, and condemn it as heresy, by assuming one of Frank 
origin. The Lady Brenhilda, in the mean time, entered the 
chamber, where her mother was just about to pass the threat- 
ened doom of banishment — “ Do not stop for my entrance, 
madam,” said the dauntless young lady ; “I am as much con- 
cerned in the doom which you are about to pass as is Bertha ; 
if bhe crosses the drawbridge of Aspramonte as an exile, so will 
I, when she has dried her tears, of which even my petulance 
could never wring one from her eyes. She shall be my squire 
and body attendant, and Launcelot, the bard, shall follow with 
my spear and shield.” 

“ And you will return, mistress,” said her mother, “ from so 
foolish an expedition, before the sun sets ? ” 

“ So Heaven further me in my purpose, lady,” answered 
the young heiress, “ the sun shall neither rise nor set that sees 
us return, till this name of Bertha, and of her mistress, Bren- 
hilda, are wafted as far as the trumpet of fame can sound 
them. — Cheer up, my sweetest Bertha J ” she said, taking her 
attendant by the hand ; “if Heaven hath torn thee from thy 
country and thy plighted troth, it hath given thee a sister and a 
friend, with whom thy fame shall be forever blended.” 

The Lady of Aspramonte was confounded : She knew that 
her daughter was perfectly capable of the wild course which 
she had announced, and that she herself, even with her hus- 
band’s assistance, would be unable to prevent her following it. 
She passively listened, therefore, while the Saxon matron, 
formerly Urica, but now Martha, addressed her daughter. 
“ My child,” she said, “ as you value honor, virtue, safety, and 
gratitude, soften your heart towards your master and mistress, 
and follow the advice of a parent, who has more years and 
more judgment than you. And you, my dearest young lady, 
let not your lady-mother think that an attachment to the exer- 
cises you excel in has destroyed in your bosom filial affection, 
and a regard to the delicacy of your sex ! — As they seem both 
obstinate, madam,” continued the. matron, after watching the 
influence of this advice upon the young woman, “ perhaps, if it 


26 o 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS . 


may be permitted me, I could state an alternative, which might 
in the mean while, satisfy your ladyship’s wishes, accommodate 
itself to the wilfulness of my obstinate daughter, and answer 
the kind purpose of her generous mistress.” The lady of As- 
pramonte signed to the Saxon matron to proceed. She went 
on accordingly : “ The Saxons, dearest lady, of the present day, 
are neither pagans nor heretics ; they are, in the time of keep- 
ing Easter, as well as in all other disputable doctrine, humbly 
obedient to the Pope of Rome ; and this our good Bishop well 
knows, since he upbraided some of the domestics for calling me 
an old heathen. Yet our names are uncouth in the ears of the 
Franks, and bear, perhaps, a heathenish sound. If it be not 
exacted that my daughter submit to a new rite of baptism, she 
will lay aside her Saxon name of Bertha upon all occasions 
while in your honorable household. This will cut short a 
debate which, with forgiveness, I think is scarce of importance 
enough to break the peace of this castle. I will engage that, 
in gratitude for this indulgence of a trifling scrupie, my 
daughter, if possible, shall double the zeal and assiduity of her 
service to her young lady.” 

The Lady of Aspramonte was glad to embrace the means 
which this offer presented, of extricating herself from the dis- 
pute with as little compromise of dignity as could well be. 
“ If the good Lord Bishop approved of such a compromise,” 
she said, “ she would for herself withdraw her opposition. 
The prelate approved accordingly, the more readily that he 
was informed that the young heiress desired earnestly such an 
agreement. The peace of the castle was restored, and Bertha 
recognized her new name of Agatha as a name of service, but 
not a name of baptism. 

One effect the dispute certainly produced, and that was, in- 
creasing in an enthusiastic degree the love of Bertha for her 
young mistress. With that amiable failing of attached domes- 
tics and humble friends, she endeavored to serve her as she 
knew she loved to be served ; and therefore indulged her mis- 
tress in those chivalrous fancies which distinguished her even 
in her own age, and in ours would have rendered her a female 
Quixote. Bertha, indeed, never caught the frenzy of her mis- 
tress ; but strong, willing, and able-bodied, she readily qualified 
herself to act upon occasion as a squire of the body to a Lady 
Adventuress ; and, accustomed from her childhood to see blows 
dealt, blood flowing, and men dying, she could look with an 
undazzled eye upon the dangers which her mistress encoun- 
tered, and seldom teased her with remonstrances, unless when 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


261 


they were unusually great. This compliance on most occasions 
gave Bertha a right of advice upon some, which, always given 
with the best intentions and at fitting times, strengthened her 
influence with her mistress, which a course of conduct savoring 
of diametrical opposition would certainly have destroyed. 

A few more words serve to announce the death of the 
Knight of Aspramonte — the romantic marriage of the young 
lady with the Count of Paris — their engagement in the crusade 
— and the detail of events with which the reader is acquainted, 

Hereward did not exactly comprehend some of the later 
incidents of the story, owing to a slight strife which arose be- 
tween Bertha and him during the course of her narrative. 
When she avowed the girlish simplicity with which she obsti- 
nately refused to change her name, because, in her apprehen- 
sion, the troth-plight betwixt her and her lover might be thereby 
prejudiced, it was impossible for Hereward not to acknowledge 
her tenderness, by snatching her to his bosom, and impressing 
his grateful thanks upon her lips. She extricated herself im- 
mediately from his grasp, however, with cheeks more crimsoned 
in modesty than in anger, and gravely addressed her lover thus : 
“ Enough, enough, Hereward ; this may be pardoned to so un- 
expected a meeting ; but we must in future remember that we 
are probably the last of our race ; and let it not be said that 
the manners of their ancestors were forgotten by Hereward 
and by Bertha; think, that though we are.alone, the shades of 
our fathers are not far off-, and watch to see what use we make 
of the meeting, which, perhaps, their intercession has procured 
us.” 

“ You wrong me, Bertha,” said Hereward, “ if you think me 
capable of forgetting my own duty and yours, at a moment 
when our thanks are due to Heaven, to be testified very differ- 
ently than by infringing on its behests, or the commands of 
our parents. The question is now, how we shall rejoin each 
other when we separate ? since separate, I fear, we must.” 

“ Oh ! do not say so ! ” exclaimed the unfortunate Bertha. 

“ It must be so,” said Hereward, “ for a time ; but I swear 
to thee by the hilt of my sword, and the handle of my battle- 
axe, that blade was never so true to shaft as I will be to 
thee ! ” 

“But wherefore, then, leave me, Hereward?” said the 
maiden; “and oh! wherefore not assist me in the release of 
my mistress ? ” 

“ Of thy mistress ! ” said Hereward. “ Shame ! that thou 
canst give that name to mortal woman ! ” 


262 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


But she is my mistress,” answered Bertha, “ and by a 
thousand kind ties which cannot be separated so long as grati- 
tude is the reward of kindness.” 

“ And what is her danger ? ” said Hereward ; “ what is it 
she wants, this accomplished lady whom thou callest mis- 
tress ? ” 

“ Her honor, her life, are alike in danger,” said Bertha. 

“ She has agreed to meet the Caesar in the field, and he will 
not hesitate, like a base-born miscreant, to take every advantage 
in the encounter, which, I grieve to say, may in all likelihood 
be fatal to my mistress.” 

“ Why dost thou think so ? ” answered Hereward. “ This 
lady has won many single combats, unless she is belied, against 
adversaries more formidable than the Caesar.” 

“ True,” said the Saxon Maiden ; “ but you speak of things 
that passed in a far different land, where faith and honor are 
not empty sounds ; as, alas ! they seem but too surely to be 
here. Trust me, it is no girlish terror which sends me out in 
this disguise of my country dress, which, they say, finds respect 
at Constantinople : I go to let the chiefs of the Crusade know 
the peril in which the noble lady stands, and trust to their hu- 
manity, to their religion, to their love of honor and fear of dis* 
grace, for assistance in this hour of need ; and now that I have 
had the blessing of meeting with thee, all besides will go well 
— all will go well — and I will back to my mistress and report 
whom I have seen.” 

“ Tarry yet another moment, my recovered treasure ! ” said 
Hereward, “ and let me balance this matter carefully. This 
Frankish lady holds the Saxons like the very dust that thou 
brushest from the hem of her garment. She treats — she regards 
• — the Saxons as pagans and heretics. She has dared to impose 
slavish tasks upon thee, born in freedom. Her father’s sword 
has been imbrued to the hilt with Anglo-Saxon blood — perhaps 
that of Waltheoff and Engelred has added depth to the stain ! 
She has been, besides, a presumptuous fool, usurping for herself 
the trophies and warlike character which belong to the other 
sex. Lastly, it will be hard to find a champion to fight in her 
stead, since all the crusaders have passed over to Asia, which 
is the land, they say, in which they have come to war ; and, by 
orders of the Emperor, no means of return to the hither shore 
will be permitted to any of them.” 

“ Alas ! alas ! ” said Bertha, “ how does this world change 
us ! The son of Waltheoff I once knew brave, ready to assist 
distress, bold and generous. Such was what I pictured him to 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 263 

myself during his absence. I have met him again, and he is 
calculating, cold, and selfish ! ” 

“Hush, damsel,” said the Varangian, “and know him of 
whom thou speakest, ere thou judgest him. The Countess of 
Paris is such as I have said • yet let her appear boldly in the 
lists, and when the trumpet shall sound thrice, another shall 
reply, which shall announce the arrival of her own noble lord 
to do battle in her stead ; or, should he fail to appear — I will 
requite her kindness to thee, Bertha, and be ready in his 
place.” 

“ Wilt thou ? wilt thou indeed ? ” said the damsel ; “ that 
was spoken like the son of Waltheoff — like the genuine stock : 
I will home, and comfort my mistress \ for surely, if the judg- 
ment of God ever directed the issue of a judicial combat, its 
influence will descend upon this. But you hint that the 
Count is here — that he is at liberty — she will inquire about 
that.” 

“ She must be satisfied,” replied Hereward, “ to know that 
her husband is under the guidance of a friend, who will en- 
deavor to protect him from his own extravagances and follies ; 
or, at all events, of one who, if he cannot properly be called a 
friend, has certainly not acted, and will not act, towards him 
the part of an enemy. — And now, farewell, long lost — long 

loved ! ” -Before he could say more, the Saxon maiden, after 

two or three vain attempts to express her gratitude, threw her- 
self into her lover’s arms, and, despite the coyness which she 
had recently shown, impressed upon his lips the thanks which 
she could not speak. 

They parted, Bertha returning to her mistress at the lodge, 
which she had left both with trouble and danger, and Here- 
ward by the portal kept by the negro portress, who, compli- 
menting the handsome Varangian on his success among the 
fair, intimated, that she had been in some sort a witness of his 
meeting with the Saxon damsel. A piece of gold, part of a late 
largesse, amply served to bribe her tongue ; and the soldier, 
clear of the gardens of the philosopher, sped back as he might 
to the barrack — judging that it was full time to carry some 
supply to Count Robert, who had been left without food the 
whole day. 

It is a common popular saying, that as the sensation of 
hunger is not connected with any pleasing or gentle emotion, 
so it is particularly remarkable for irritating those of anger 
and spleen. It is not, therefore, very surprising that Count 
Robert, who had been so unusually long without sustenance^ 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


264 

should receive Hereward with a degree of impatience be- 
yond what the occasion merited, and injurious certainly to 
the honest Varangian, who had repeatedly exposed his life 
that day for the interest of the Countess and the Count him- 
self. 

“ Soh, sir ! ” he said, in that accent of affected restraint by 
which a superior modifies his displeasure* against his inferior 
into a cold and scornful expression — “ You have played a 
liberal host to us ! — Not that it is of consequence ; but me* 
thinks a Count of the most Christian kingdom dines not every 
day with a mercenary soldier, and might expect, if not the os- 
tentatious, at least the needful part of hospitality.” 

“ And methinks,” replied the Varangian, “O most Christian 
Count, that such of your high rank as, by choice or fate, 
become the guests of such as I, may think themselves pleased, 
and blame not their host’s niggardliness, but the difficulty 
of his circumstances, if dinner should not present itself oftener 
than once in four-and-twenty hours.” So saying, he clapped 
his hands together, and his domestic Edric entered. His 
guest looked astonished at the entrance of this third party 
into their retirement. “ I will answer for this man,” said 
Hereward, and addressed him in the following words : “ What 
food hast thou, Edric, to place before the honorable Count ? ” 

“ Nothing but the cold pasty,” replied the attendant, 
‘‘marvellously damaged by your honor’s encounter at break- 
fast.” 

The military domestic, as intimated, brought forward a 
large pasty, but which had already that morning sustained a 
furious attack, insomuch, that Count Robert of Paris, who, like 
all noble Normans, was somewhat nice and delicate in his 
eating, was in some doubt whether his scrupulousness should 
not prevail over his hunger ; but on looking more closely, 
sight, smell, and a fast of twenty hours, joined to convince him 
that the pasty was an excellent one, and that the charger on 
which it was presented possessed corners yet untouched. At 
length, having suppressed his scruples, and made bold inroad 
upon the remains of the dish, he paused to partake of a flask of 
strong red wine which stood invitingly beside him, and a lusty 
draught increased the good humor which had begun to take 
place towards Hereward, in exchange for the displeasure with 
which he had received him. 

“ Now, by Heaven ! ” he said, “ I myself ought to be 
ashamed to lack the courtesy which I recommend to others ! 
Here have I, with the manners of a Flemish boor, been de 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


265 

vouring the provisions of my gallant host, without even asking 
him to sit down at his own table, and to partake of his own 
good cheer ! ” 

“ I will not strain courtesies with you for that,” said Here- 
ward; and thrusting his hand into the pasty, he proceeded 
with great speed and dexterity to devour the miscellaneous con- 
tents, a handful of which was enclosed in his grasp. The 
Count now withdrew from the table, partly in disgust at the 
rustic proceedings of Hereward, who, however, by now calling 
Edric to join him in his attack upon the pasty, showed that he 
had, in fact, according to his manners, subjected himself pre- 
viously to some observance of respect towards his guest; 
while the assistance of his attendant enabled him to make a 
clear cacaabulum of what was left. Count Robert at length 
summoned up courage sufficient to put a question, which had 
been trembling upon his lips ever since Hereward had re- 
turned. 

“ Have thine inquiries, my gallant friend, learned more con- 
cerning my unfortunate wife, my faithful Brenhilda?” 

“ Tidings I have,” said the Anglo-Saxon, “ but whether 
pleasing or not, you yourself must be the judge. This much I 
have learned ; — she hath, as you know, come under an engage- 
ment to meet the Caesar in arms in the lists, but under con- 
ditions which you may perhaps think strange ; these, however, 
she hath entertained without scruple.” 

“Let me know these terms,” said the Count of Paris; 
“ they will, I think, appear less strange in my eyes than in 
thine.” 

But while he affected to speak with the utmost coolness, 
the husband’s sparkling eye and crimsoned cheek betrayed the 
alteration which had taken place in his feelings. “ The lady 
and the Caesar,” said Hereward, “ as you partly heard yourself, 
are to meet in fight ; if the Countess wins, of course she re- 
mains the wife of the noble Count of Paris ; if she loses, she 
becomes the paramour of the Caesar Nicephorus Briennius.” 

“Saints and angels forbid!” said Count Robert; “were 
they to permit such treason to triumph, we might be pardoned 
for doubting their divinity ! ” 

“Yet methinks,” said the Anglo-Saxon, “it were no dis- 
graceful precaution that both you and I, with other friends, if 
we can obtain such, should be seen under shield in the lists on 
the morning of the conflict. To triumph, or to be defeated, is 
in the hand of fate ; but what we cannot fail to witness is, 
whether or not the lady receives that fair play which is the due 


266 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


of an honorable combatant, and which, as you have yourself 
seen, can be sometimes basely transgressed in this Grecian 
empire.” 

“ On that condition,” said the Count, “ and protesting that 
not even the extreme danger of my lady shall make me break 
through the rule of a fair fight, I will surely attend the lists, 
if thou, brave Saxon, canst find me any means of doing so. — 
Yet stay,” he continued, after reflecting for a moment, “ thou 
shalt promise not to let her know that her Count is on the 
field, far less to point him out to her eye among the press of 
warriors. O, thou dost not know that the sight of the beloved 
will sometimes steal from us our courage, even when it has 
most to achieve ! ” 

“ We will endeavor,” said the Varangian, “ to arrange mat- 
ters according to thy pleasure, so that thou findest out no more 
fantastical difficulties ; for, by my word, an affair so compli- 
cated in itself requires not to be confused by the fine-spun 
whims of thy national gallantry. Meantime, much must be 
done this night ; and while I go about it, thou, Sir Knight, 
hadst best remain here, with such disguise of garments, and 
such food, as Edric may be able to procure for thee. Fear 
nothing from intrusion on the part of thy neighbors. We 
Varangians respect each other’s secrets, of whatever nature 
they may chance to be.” 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST. 


But for our trusty brother-in-law— and the Abbot, 

With all the rest of that consorted crew, — 

Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels 
Good uncle, help to order several powers 
To Oxford, or where’er these traitors are : 

They shall not live within this world, I swear. 

Richard II. 

As Hereward spoke the last words narrated in the foregoing 
chapter, he left the Count in his apartment, and proceeded to 
the Blacquernal Palace. We traced his first entrance into the 
court, but since then he had frequently been summoned, not 
only by order of the Princess Anna Comnena, who delighted in 
asking him questions concerning the customs of his native 
country, and marking down the replies in her own inflated 
language ; but also by the direct command of the Emperor 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


267 

himself, who had the humor of many princes, that of desiring 
to obtain direct information from persons in a very inferior 
station in their Court. The ring which the Princess had given 
to the Varangian served as a pass-token more than once, and 
was now so generally known by the slaves of the palace, that 
Hereward had only to slip it into the hand of a principal person 
among them, and was introduced into a small chamber, not 
distant from the saloon already mentioned, dedicated to the 
Muses. In this small apartment, the Emperor, his spouse 
Irene, and their accomplished daughter, Anna Comnena, were 
seated together, clad in very ordinary apparel, as indeed the 
furniture of the room itself was of the kind used by respectable 
citizens, saving that mattresses, composed of eiderdown, hung 
before each door to prevent the risk of eavesdropping. 

“ Our trusty Varangian,’* said the Empress. 

“ My guide and tutor respecting the manners of those steel- 
clad men,” said the Princess Anna Comnena, “ of whom it is 
so necessary that I should form an accurate idea.” 

“ Your Imperial Majesty,” said the Empress, “will not, I 
trust, think your consort and your muse-inspired daughter are 
too many to share with you the intelligence brought by this 
brave and loyal man ? ” 

“ Dearest wife and daughter,” returned the Emperor, “ I 
have hitherto spared you the burden of a painful secret, which 
I have locked in my own bosom, at whatever expense of solitary 
sorrow and unimparted anxiety. Noble daughter, you in par- 
ticular will feel this calamity, learning, as you must learn, to 
think odiously of one, of whom it has hitherto been your duty 
to hold a very different opinion.” 

“ Holy Mary ! ” exclaimed the Princess. 

“ Rally yourself,” said the Emperor ; “ remember you are 
a child of the purple chamber, born, not to weep for your 
father’s wrongs, but to avenge them, — not to regard even him 
who has lain by your side as half so important as the sacred 
Imperial grandeur, of which you are yourself a partaker.” 

“ What can such words preface ? ” said Anna Comnena, in 
great agitation. 

“ They say,” answered the Emperor, “ that the Caesar is an 
ungrateful man to all my bounties, and even to that which 
annexed him to my own house, and made him by adoption my 
own son. He hath consorted himself with a knot of traitors, 
whose very names are enough to raise the foul fiend, as if to 
snatch his assured prey ! ” 

“ Could Nicephorus do this ? ” said the astonished and for- 


2 68 CO UNT ROBER T OF PARIS . 

lorn Princess ; “ Nicephorus, who hath so often called my eyes 
the lights by which he steered his path ? Could he do this to 
my father, to whose exploits he has listened hour after hour, 
protesting that he knew not whether it was the beauty of the 
language, or the heroism of the action, which most enchanted 
him ? Thinking with the same thought, seeing with the same 
eye, loving with the same heart, — O my father ! it is impossible 
that he could be so false. Think of the neighboring Temple 
of the Muses ! ” 

“ And if I did,” murmured Alexius in his heart, “ I should 
think of the only apology which could be proposed for the 
traitor. A little is well enough, but the full soul loatheth 
the honey-comb.” Then speaking aloud, “ My daughter,” he 
said, “ be comforted ; we ourselves were unwilling to believe 
the shameful truth ; but our guards have been debauched ; 
their commander, that ungrateful Achilles Tatius, with the 
equal traitor, Agelastes, has been seduced to favor our im- 
prisonment or murder ; and, alas for Greece ! in the very mo- 
ment when she required the fostering care of a parent, she was 
to be deprived of him by a sudden and merciless blow ! ” 

Here the Emperor wept, whether for the loss to be sustained 
by his subjects, or of his own life, it is hard to say. 

“ Methinks,” said Irene, “ your Imperial Highness is slow 
in taking measures against the danger.” 

“ Under your gracious permission, mother,” answered the 
Princess, “ I would rather say he was hasty in giving belief to 
it. Methinks the evidence of a Varangian, granting him to be 
ever so stout a man-at-arms, is but a frail guarantee against the 
honor of your son-in-law — the approved bravery and fidelity of 
the captain of your guards — the deep sense, virtue, and pro- 
found wisdom of the greatest of your philosophers ” 

“ And the conceit of an over-educated daughter,” said the 
Emperor, “ who will not allow her parent to judge in what most 
concerns him. I will tell thee, Anna, I know every one of 
them, and the trust which may be reposed in them ; the honor 
of your Nicephorus — the bravery and fidelity of the Acolyte — 
and the virtue and wisdom of Agelastes — have I not had them 
all in my purse ? And had my purse continued well filled, and 
my arm strong as it was of late, there they would have still re- 
mained. But the butterflies went off as the weather became 
cold, and I must meet the tempest without their assistance. 
You talk of want of proof ? I have proof sufficient when I see 
danger ; this honest soldier brought me indications which cor- 
respond with my own private remarks, made on purpose. Var* 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS 


269 

angian he shall be of Varangians ; Acolyte he shall be named, 
in place of the present traitor ; and who knows what may come 
thereafter ? ” 

“ May it please your Highness,” said the Varangian, who 
had been hitherto silent, “ many men in this empire rise to dignity 
by the fall of their original patrons, but it is a road to great- 
ness to which I cannot reconcile my conscience ; moreover, 
having recovered a friend, from whom I was long ago separated, 
I shall require, in short space, your Imperial license for going 
hence, where I shall leave thousands of enemies behind me, and 
spending my life, like many of my countrymen, under the ban- 
ner of King William of Scotland ” 

“ Part with thee , most inimitable man ! ” cried the Emperor, 
with emphasis ; “ where shall I get a soldier — a champion — a 
friend — so faithful ? ” 

“ Noble sir,” replied the Anglo-Saxon, “ I am every way 
sensible to your goodness and munificence ; but let me entreat 
you to call me by my own name, and to promise me nothing 
but your forgiveness, for my having been the agent of such 
confusion among your Imperial servants. Not only is the 
threatened fate of Achilles Tatius, my benefactor ; of the 
Caesar, whom I think my well-wisher ; and even of Agelastes 
himself painful, so far as it is of my bringing round ; but also 
I have known it somehow happen, that those on whom your Im- 
perial Majesty has lavished the most valuable expressions of 
your favor one day, were the next day food to fatten the chough 
and crow. And this, I acknowledge, is a purpose, for which I 
would not willingly have it said I had brought my English limbs 
to these Grecian shores.” 

“ Call thee by thine own name, my Edward,” said the Em- 
peror (while he muttered aside — “ By Heaven, I have again 
forgot the name of the barbarian ! ”) — “ by thine own name 
certainly for the present, but only until we shall devise one 
more fitted for the trust we repose in thee. Meantime, look at 
the scroll, which contains, I think, all the particulars which we 
have been able to learn of this plot, and give it to these un- 
believing women, who will not credit that an emperor is in dan- 
ger, till the blades of the conspirators’ poniards are clashing 
within his ribs.” 

Hereward did as he was commanded, and having looked at 
the scroll, and signified, by bending his head, his acquiescence 
in its contents, he presented it to Irene, who had not read long, 
ere, with a countenance so embittered that she had difficulty in 
pointing out the cause of her displeasure to her daughter, she 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


270 

bade her, with animation, “ Read that— read that, and judge o! 
the gratitude and affection of thy Caesar ! ” 

The Princess Anna Comnena awoke from a state of pro- 
found and overpowering melancholy, and looked at the passage 
pointed out to her, at first with an air of languid curiosity, which 
presently deepened into the most intense interest. She clutched 
the scroll as a falcon does his prey, her eye lightened with in- 
dignation ; and it was with the cry of the bird when in fury, 
that she exclaimed, “ Bloody-minded, double-hearted traitor ! 
what wouldst thou have ? Yes, father,” she said, rising in fury, 
“ it is no longer the voice of a deceived princess that shall in- 
tercede to avert from the traitor Nicephorus the doom he has 
deserved. Did he think that one born in the purple chamber 
could be divorced — murdered, perhaps — with the petty formula 
of the Romans, ‘ Restore the keys, — be no longer my domestic 
drudge ? * * Was a daughter of the blood of Comnenus liable 
to such insults as the meanest of Quirites might bestow on a 
family housekeeper ? ” 

So saying, she dashed the tears from her eyes, and her 
countenance, naturally that of beauty and gentleness, became 
animated with the expression of a fury. Hereward looked at 
her with a mixture of fear, dislike, and compassion. She again 
burst forth, for nature, having given her considerable abilities, 
had lent her at the same time an energy of passion, far superior 
in power to the cold ambition of Irene, or the wily, ambidexter, 
shuffling policy of the Emperor. 

“ He shall abye it,” said the Princess ; “ he shall dearly 
abye it ! False, smiling, cozening traitor ! — and for that un- 
feminine barbarian ! Something of this I guessed, even at that 
old fool’s banqueting-house ; and yet if this unworthy Caesar 
submits his body to the chance of arms, he is less prudent than 
I have some reason to believe. Think you he will have the 
madness to brand us with such open neglect, my father ? and 
will you not invent some mode of insuring our revenge ? ” 

“ Soh ! ” thought the Emperor, “ this difficulty is over ; she 
will run down hill to her revenge and will need the snaffle and 
curb more than the lash. If every jealous dame in Constan- 
tinople were to pursue her fury as unrelentingly, our laws 
should be written, like Draco’s, not in ink, but in blood. — At- 
tend to me now,” he said aloud, “ my wife, my daughter, and 
thou, dear Edward, and you shall learn, and you three only, 
my mode of navigating the vessel of the state through these 
shoals.” 

* The laconic form of the Roman divorce, 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


271 

4i Let us see distinctly,” continued Alexius, *- the means by 
which they propose to act, and these ahall instruct us how to 
meet them. A certain number of the Varangians are unhap- 
pily seduced, under pretence of wrongs, artfully stirred up by 
their villanous general. A part of them are studiously to be 
arranged nigh our person — the traitor Ursel, some of them 
suppose, is dead, but if it were so, his name is sufficient to draw 
together his old factionaries — I have a means of satisfying them 
on that point on which I shall remain silent for the present.— 
A considerable body of the Immortal Guards have aiso given 
way to seduction ; they are to be placed to support the hand- 
ful of treacherous Varangians, who are in the plot to attack our 
person. — Now, a slight change in the stations of the soldiery, 
which thou, my faithful Edward — or — a — a — whatever thou art 
named, — for which thou, I say, shalt have full authority, will 
derange the plans of the traitors, and place the true men in 
such position around them as to cut them to pieces with little 
trouble.” 

“ And the combat, my lord ? ” said the Saxon. 

“ Thou hadst been no true Varangian hadst thou not in- 
quired after that,” said the Emperor, nodding good-humoredly 
towards him. “ As to the combat, the Caesar has devised it, 
and it shall be my care that he shall not retreat from the 
dangerous part of it. He cannot in honor avoid fighting with 
this woman, strange as the combat is ; and however it ends, the 
conspiracy will break forth, and as assuredly as it comes against 
persons prepared, and in arms, shall it be stifled in the blood 
of the conspirators ! ” 

“ My revenge does not require this,” said the Princess ; 
“ and your Imperial honor is also interested that this Countess 
shall be protected.” 

“ It is little business of mine,” said the Emperor. “ She 
comes here with her husband altogether uninvited. He behaves 
with insolence in my presence, and deserves whatever may be 
the issue to himself or his lady of their mad adventure. In 
sooth, I desired little more than to give him a fright with those 
animals whom their ignorance judged enchanted, and to give 
his wife a slight alarm about the impetuosity of a Grecian lover, 
and there my vengeance should have ended. But it may be 
that his wife may be taken under my protection, now that little 
revenge is over.” 

“ And a paltry revenge it was,” said the Empress, “ that 
you, a man past middle life, and with a wife who might com- 
mand some attention, should constitute yourself the object of 


272 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


alarm to such a handsome man as Count Robert, and the 
Amazon his wife.” 

“ By your favor, dame Irene, no,” said the Emperor. “ I 
left that part of the proposed comedy to my son-in-law the 
Caesar.” 

But when the poor Emperor had m some measure stopped 
one floodgate, he effectually opened another, and one which 
was more formidable. “ The more shame to your Imperial 
wisdom, my father ! ” exclaimed the Princess Anna Com- 
nena ; “ it is a shame that with wisdom and a beard like yours, 
you should be meddling in such indecent follies as admit dis- 
turbance into private families, and that family your own daugh- 
ter’s ! Who can say that the Caesar Nicephorus Briennius ever 
looked astray towards another woman than his wife, till the 
Emperor taught him to do so, and involved him in a web of 
intrigue and treachery, in which he has endangered the life of 
his father-in-law ? ” 

“ Daughter ! daughter ! daughter ! ” — said the Empress ; 
“ daughter of a she-wolf, I think, to goad her parent at such an 
unhappy time, when all the leisure he has is too little to defend 
his life 1 ” 

“ Peace, I pray you, women both, with your senseless clam- 
ors,” answered Alexius, “ and let me at least swim for my 
life undisturbed with your folly. God knows if I am a man to 
encourage, I will not say the reality of wrong, but even its 
mere appearance ! ” 

These words he uttered, crossing himself, with a devout 
groan. . His wife Irene, in the mean time, stepped before him, 
and said, with a bitterness in her looks and accent, which only 
long-concealed nuptial hatred breaking forth at once could 
convey, — “ Alexius, terminate this affair how it will, you have 
lived a hypocrite, and thou wilt not fail to die one.” So say- 
ing, with an air of noble indignation, and carrying her daughter 
along with her, she swept out of the apartment. 

The Emperor looked after her in some confusion. He soon, 
however, recovered his self-possession, and turning to Here- 
ward, with a look of injured majesty, said, “ Ah ! my dear 
Edward,” — for the word had become rooted in his mind, instead 
of the less euphonic name of Hereward, — “ thou seest how it 
is even with the greatest, and that the Emperor, in moments of 
difficulty, is a subject of misconstruction, as well as the meanest 
burgess of Constantinople ; nevertheless, my trust is so great 
in thee, Edward, that I would have thee believe, that my daugh- 
ter, Anna Comnena, is not of the temper of her mother, but 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


2 73 

rather of my own ; honoring, thou mayst see, with religious 
fidelity, the unworthy ties which I hope soon to break, and 
assort her with other fetters of Cupid, which shall be borne 
more lightly. Edward, my main trust is in thee. Accident 
presents us with an opportunity, happy of the happiest so it be 
rightly improved, of having all the traitors before us assembled 
on pne fair field. Think, then, on that day, as the Franks say at 
their tournaments, that fair eyes behold thee. Thou canst not 
devise a gift within my power, but I will gladly load thee with it.” 

“ It needs not,” said the Varangian, somewhat coldly ; 

4 my highest ambition is to merit the epitaph upon my tomb, 

‘ Hereward was faithful.’ I am about, however, to demand a 
proof of your imperial confidence, which, perhaps, you may 
think a startling one.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said the Emperor. “ What, in one word, is thy 
demand ? ” 

“ Permission,” replied Hereward, “ to go to the Duke of 
Bouillon’s encampment, and entreat his presence in the lists, to 
witness this extraordinary combat.” 

“ That he may return with his crusading madmen,” said the 
Emperor, “ and sack Constantinople, under pretence of doing 
justice to his Confederates ? This, Varangian, is at least speak- 
ing thy mind openly.” 

“ No, by Heavens ! ” said Hereward suddenly ; “ the Duke 
of Bouillon shall come with no more knights than may be a 
reasonable guard should treachery be offered to the Countess 
of Paris.” 

“ Well, even in this,” said the Emperor, “will I be conform- 
able ; and if thou, Edward, betrayest my trust, think that thou 
forfeitest all that my friendship has promised, and dost incur, 
besides, the damnation that is due to the traitor who betrays 
with a kiss.” 

“ For thy reward, noble sir,” answered the Varangian, “ I 
hereby renounce all claim to it. When the diadem is once 
more firmly fixed upon thy brow, and the sceptre in thy hand, 
if I am then alive, if my poor services should deserve so much, 

I will petition thee for the means of leaving this court, and 
returning to the distant island in which I was born. Mean- 
while, think me not unfaithful, because I have for a time the 
means of being so with effect. Your Imperial Highness shall 
learn that Hereward is as true as is your right hand to your 
left.” — So saying, he took his leave with a profound obeisance. 

The Emperor gazed after him with a countenance in which 
doubt was mingled with admiration. 

18 


274 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


“ I have trusted him,” he said, “ with all he asked, and with 
the power of ruining me entirely, if such be his purpose. He 
has but to breathe a whisper, and the whole mad crew of 
crusaders, kept in humor at the expense of so much current 
falsehood, and so much more gold, will return with fire and 
sword to burn down Constantinople, and sow with salt the place 
where it stood. I have done what I had resolved never to do — 
I have ventured kingdom and life on the faith of a man born 
of woman. How often have I said, nay sworn, that I would not 
hazard myself on such peril, and yet, step by step, I have done 
so ! I cannot tell — there is in that man’s looks and words a 
good faith which overwhelms me ; and what is almost incred- 
ible, my belief in him has increased in proportion to his show- 
ing me how slight my power was over him. I threw, like the 
wily angler, every bait I could devise, and some of them such 
as a king would scarcely have disdained ; to none of these would 
he rise ; but yet he gorges, I may say, the bare hook, and en- 
ters upon my service without a shadow of self-interest. — Can 
this be double-distilled treachery ! — or can it be what men 
call disinterestedness ? — If I thought him false, the moment 
is not yet past — he has not yet crossed the bridge — he has 
not passed the guards of the palace, who have no hesita- 
tion, and know no disobedience — But no — I were then alone 
in the land, and without a friend or confidant. I hear the 
sound of the outer gate unclose ; the sense of danger certainly 
renders my ears more acute than usual. — It shuts again — the 
die is cast. He is at liberty — and Alexius Comnenus must 
stand or fall, according to the uncertain faith of a mercenary 
Varangian.” He clapped his hands; a slave appeared, of 
whom he demanded wine. He drank, and his heart was 
cheered within him. “I am decided,” he said, “and will 
abide with resolution the cast of the throw, for good or for evil.” 

So saying, he retired to his apartment, and was not again 
seen during that night. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND. 


And aye, as if for death, some lonely trumpet peal’d. 

Campbell. 

The Varangian, his head agitated with the weighty matters 
which were imposed on him, stopped from time to time as ho 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


275 

journeyed through the moonlight streets, to arrest passing 
ideas as they shot through his mind, and consider them with 
accuracy in all their bearings. His thoughts were such as 
animated or alarmed him alternately, each followed by a con- 
fused throng of accompaniments which it suggested, and 
banished again in its turn by reflections of another description. 
It was one of those conjunctures when the minds of ordinary 
men feel themselves unable to support a burden which is sud- 
denly flung upon them, and when, on the contrary, those of 
uncommon fortitude, and that best of Heaven’s gifts, good 
sense, founded on presence of mind, feel their talents awakened 
and regulated for the occasion, like a good steed under the 
management of a rider of courage and experience. 

As he stood in one of those fits of reverie, which repeatedly 
during that night arrested his stern military march, Hereward 
thought that his ear caught the note of a distant trumpet. This 
surprised him ; a trumpet blown at that late hour, and in the 
streets of Constantinople, argued something extraordinary ; for, 
as all military movements were the subject of special ordinance, 
the etiquette of the night could hardly have been transgressed 
without some great cause. The question was, what that cause 
could be ? 

Had the insurrection broken out unexpectedly, and in a 
different manner from what the conspirators proposed to them- 
selves ? — If so, his meeting with his plighted bride, after so 
many years’ absence, was but a delusive preface to their sepa- 
rating forever. Or had the crusaders, a race of men upon 
whose motions it was difficult to calculate, suddenly taken arms 
and returned from the opposite shore to surprise the city? 
This might very possibly be the case : so numerous had been 
the different causes of complaint afforded to the crusaders, that, 
when they were now for the first time assembled into one body, 
and had heard the stories which they could reciprocally tell 
concerning the perfidy of the Greeks, nothing was so like- 
ly, so natural, even perhaps so justifiable, as that they should 
study revenge. 

But the sound rather resembled a point of war regularly 
blown, than the tumultuous blare of bugle-horns and trumpets, 
the accompaniments at once, and the annunciation, of a taken 
town, in which the horrid circumstances of storm had not yet 
given place to such stern peace as the victor’s weariness of 
slaughter and rapine allows at length to the wretched inhabi- 
tants. Whatever it was, it was necessary that Hereward should 
learn its purport, and therefore he made his way into a broad 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


276 

street near the barracks, from which the sound seemed to come, 
to which point, indeed, his way was directed for other reasons. 

The inhabitants of that quarter of the town did not appear 
violently startled by this military signal. The moonlight slept 
on the street, crossed by the gigantic shadowy towers of Sancta 
Sophia. No human being appeared in the streets, and such as 
for an instant looked from their doors or from their lattices, 
seemed to have their curiosity quickly satisfied, for they with- 
drew their heads, and secured the opening through which they 
had peeped. 

Hereward could not help remembering the traditions which 
were recounted by the fathers of his tribe, in the deep woods 
of Hampshire, and which spoke of invisible huntsmen, who 
were heard to follow with viewless horses and hounds the un- 
seen chase through the depths of the forests of Germany. 
Such it seemed were the sounds with which these haunted 
woods were wont to ring while the wild chase was up ; and 
with such apparent terror did the hearers listen to their clamor. 

“ Fie ! ” he said, as he suppressed within him a tendency to 
the same superstitious fears ; “ do such childish fancies belong 
to a man trusted with so much, and from whom so much is ex- 
pected ? ” He paced down the street, therefore, with his 
battle-axe over his shoulder, and the first person whom he saw 
venturing to look out of his door, he questioned concerning 
the cause of this military music at such an unaccustomed hour. 

“ I cannot tell, so please you, my lord,” said the citizen, 
unwilling, it appeared, to remain in the open air, or to enter 
into conversation, and greatly disposed to decline further 
questioning. This was the political citizen of Constantinople, 
whom we met with at the beginning of this history, and who, 
hastily stepping into his habitation, eschewed all further con- 
versation. 

The wrestler Stephanos showed himself at the next door, 
which was garlanded with oak and ivy leaves, in honor of some 
recent victory. He stood unshrinking, partly encouraged by 
the consciousness of personal strength, and partly by a rugged 
surliness of temper, which is often mistaken among persons of 
this kind for real courage. His admirer and flatterer, Lysim- 
achus, kept himself ensconced behind his ample shoulders. 

As Hereward passed, he put the same question as he did 
to the former citizen, — “ Know you the meaning of these 
trumpets sounding so late ? ” 

“You should know best yourself,” answered Stephanos, 
doggedly ; “ for to judge by your axe and helmet, they are 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


277 

your trumpets, and not ours, which disturb honest men in their 
first sleep/’ 

“Varlet!” answered the Varangian, with an emphasis 
which made the prizer start, — “ but — when that trumpet sounds, 
it is no time for a soldier to punish insolence as it deserves.” 

The Greek started back and bolted into his house, nearly 
overthrowing, in the speed of his retreat, the artist Lysimachus, 
who was listening to what passed., 

Hereward passed on to the barracks, where the military 
music had seemed to halt ; but on the Varangian crossing the 
threshold of the ample court-yard, it broke forth again with a 
tremendous burst, whose clangor almost stunned him, though 
well accustomed to the sounds. “ What is the meaning of this, 
Engelbrecht ? ” he said to the Varangian sentinel, who paced 
axe in hand before the entrance. 

“ The proclamation of a challenge and combat,” answered 
Englebrecht. “ Strange things toward, comrade ; the frantic 
crusaders have bit the Grecians, and infected them with their 
humor of tilting, as they say dogs do each other with madness.” 

Hereward made no reply to the sentinel’s speech, but passed 
forward into a knot of his fellow-soldiers who were assembled 
in the court, half-armed, or, more properly, in total disarray, as 
just arisen from their beds and huddled around the trumpets 
of their corps, which were drawn out in full pomp. He of the 
gigantic instrument, whose duty it was to intimate the express 
commands of the Emperor, was not wanting in his place, and 
the musicians were supported by a band of the Varangians in 
arms, headed by Achilles Tatius himself. Hereward could 
also notice, on approaching nearer, as his comrades made way 
for him, that six of the Imperial heralds were on duty on this 
occasion ; four of these (two acting at the same time) had 
already made proclamation, which was to be repeated for the 
third time by the two last, as was the usual fashion in Con- 
stantinople, with Imperial mandates of great consequence. 
Achilles Tatius, the moment he saw his confidant, made him a 
sign, which Hereward understood as conveying a desire to 
speak with him after the proclamation was over. The herald, 
after the flourish of trumpets was finished, commenced in these 
words : — 

“ By the authority of the resplendent and divine Prince 
Alexius Comnenus, Emperor of the most holy Roman Empire, 
his Imperial Majesty desires it to be made known to all and 
sundry the subjects of his empire, whatever their race of blood 
may be, or at whatever shrine of divinity they happen to bend 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


278 

— Know ye, therefore, that upon the second day after this is 
dated, our beloved son-in-law, the much-esteemed Caesar, hath 
taken upon him to do battle with our sworn enemy, Robert, 
Count of Paris, on account of his insolent conduct, by presum- 
ing publicly to occupy our royal seat, and no less by break- 
ing, in our Imperial presence, those curious specimens of art, 
ornamenting our throne, called by tradition the Lions of Solo- 
mon. And that there may not remain a man in Europe who 
shall dare to say that the Grecians are behind other parts of 
the world in any of the manly exercises which Christian nations 
use, the said noble enemies, renouncing all assistance from 
falsehood, from spells, or from magic, shall debate this quarrel 
in three courses with grinded spears, and three passages of 
arms, with sharpened swords ; the field to be at the judgment 
of the honorable Emperor, and to be decided at his most gra- 
cious and unerring pleasure. And so God show the right ! ” 
Another formidable flourish of the trumpets concluded the 
ceremony. Achilles then dismissed the attendant troops, as 
well as the heralds and musicians, to their respective quarters ; 
and having got Hereward close to his side, inquired of him 
whether he had learned anything of the prisoner, Robert, Count 
of Paris. 

“Nothing,” said the Varangian, “save the tidings your 
proclamation contains.” 

“ You think, then,” said Achilles, “ that the Count has been 
a party to it ? ” 

“ He ought to have been so,” answered the Varangian. “ I 
know no one but himself entitled to take burden for his 
appearance in the lists.” 

“ Why, look you,” said the Acolyte, “ my most excellent, 
though blunt-witted Hereward, this Caesar of ours hath had 
the extravagance to venture his tender wit in comparison to 
that of Achilles Tatius. He stands upon his honor, too, this 
ineffable fool, and is displeased with the idea of being supposed 
either to challenge a woman, or to receive a challenge at her 
hand. He has substituted, therefore, the name of the lord 
instead of the lady. If the Count fail to appear, the Caesar 
walks forward challenger and successful combatant at a cheap 
rate, since no one has encountered him, and claims that the 
lady should be delivered up to him as captive of his dreaded 
bow and spear. This will be the signal for a general tumult, 
in which, if the Emperor be not slain on the spot, he will be con* 
veyed to the dungeon of his own Blacquernal, there to endure 
the doom which his cruelty has inflicted upon so many others.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


279 


“ But ” — said the Varangian. 

“ But — but — but — ,” said his officer ; “but thou art a fool. 
Canst thou not see that this gallant Caesar is willing to avoid 
the risk of encountering with this lady, while he earnestly de- 
sires to be supposed willing to meet her husband ? It is our 
business to fix the combat in such a shape as to bring all who 
are prepared for insurrection together in arms to play their 
parts. Do thou only see that our trusty friends are placed 
near to the Emperor’s person, and in such a manner as to 
keep from him the officious and meddling portion of guards, 
who may be disposed to assist him ; and whether the Caesar 
fights a combat with lord or lady, or whether there be any 
combat at all or not, the revolution shall be accomplished, and 
the Tatii shall replace the Comneni upon the Imperial throne 
of Constantinople. Go, my trusty Hereward. Thou wilt not 
forget that the signal word of the insurrection is Ursel, who 
lives in the affections of the people, although his body, 
it is said, has long lain a corpse in the dungeons of the 
Blacquernal.” 

“ What was this Ursel,” said Hereward, “ of whom I hear 
men talk so variously ? ” 

“ A competitor for the crown with Alexius Comnenus — good, 
brave, and honest; but overpowered by the cunning* rather 
than the skill or bravery, of his foe. He died, as I believe, in 
the Blacquernal ; though when, or how, there are few that can 
say. But, up and be doing, my Hereward ! Speak encourage- 
ment to the Varangians — Interest whomsoever thou canst to 
join us. Of the Immortals, as they are called, and of the dis- 
contented citizens, enough are prepared to fill up the cry, and 
follow in the wake of those on whom we must rely as the be- 
ginners of the enterprise. No longer shall Alexius’s cunning, 
in avoiding popular assemblies, avail to protect him ; he can- 
not, with regard to his honor, avoid being present at a combat 
to be fought beneath his own eye : and Mercury be praised for 
tne eloquence which inspired him, after some hesitation, to 
determine for the proclamation ! ” 

“You have seen him, then, this evening?” said the 
Varangian. 

“ Seen him ! Unquestionably ! ” answered the Acolyte. 
“Had I ordered these trumpets to be sounded without his 
knowledge, the blast had blown the head from my shoulders.” 

“ I had well-nigh met you at the palace,” said Hereward ; 
while his heart throbbed almost as high as if he had actually 
had such a dangerous encounter. 


28 o 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ I heard something of it,” said Achilles ; " that you came 
to take the parting orders of him who now acts the sovereign. 
Surely, had I seen you there, with that steadfast, open, seem- 
ingly honest countenance, cheating the wily Greek by very dint 
of bluntness, I had not forborne laughing at the contrast be- 
tween that and the thoughts of thy heart.” 

“ God alone,” said Hereward, “ knows the thoughts of our 
hearts ; but I take him to witness, that I am faithful to my 
promise, and wall discharge the task entrusted to me.” 

“ Bravo ! mine honest Anglo-Saxon,” said Achilles. “ I 
pray thee to call my slaves to unarm me ; and when thou thy- 
self doffest those weapons of an ordinary lifeguards-man, tell 
them they never shall above twice more enclose the Jimbs of 
one for whom fate has much more fitting garments in store.” 

Hereward dared not intrust his voice with an answer to so 
critical a speech ; he bowed profoundly, and retired to his own 
quarters in the building. 

Upon entering the apartment, he was immediately saluted 
by the voice of Count Robert, in joyful accents, not suppressed 
by the fear of making himself heard, though prudence should 
have made that uppermost in his mind. 

“ Hast thou heard it, my dear Hereward,” he said — “ hast 
thou heard the proclamation, by which this Greek antelope 
hath defied me to tilting with grinded spears, and fighting three 
passages of arms with sharpened swords ? Yet there is some- 
thing strange, too, that he should not think it safer to hold my 
lady to the encounter ! He may think, perhaps, that the 
crusaders would not permit such a battle to be fought. But, 
by Our Lady of the Broken Lances ! he little knows that the 
men of the West hold their ladies’ character for courage as 
jealously as they do their own. This whole night have I been 
considering in what armor I shall clothe me ; what shift I shall 
make for a steed ; and whether I shall not honor him 
sufficiently by using Tranchefer, as my only weapon, against 
his whole armor, offensive and defensive.” 

“ I shall take care, however,” said Hereward, “ that thou 
art better provided in case of need. — Thou knowest not th« 
Greeks.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


2 &\ 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD. 

The Varangian did not leave the Count of Paris until the 
latter had placed in his hands his signet-ring, semee (as the 
heralds express it) with lances splintered, and bearing the proud 
motto, “ Mine yet unscathed.” Provided with this symbol of 
confidence, it was now his business to take order for communi- 
cating the approaching solemnity to the leader of the crusading 
army, and demanding from him, in the name of Robert 
of Paris, and the Lady Brenhilda, such a detachment of west- 
ern cavaliers as might ensure strict observance of honor and 
honesty in the arrangement of the lists, and during the prog- 
ress of the combat. The duties imposed on Hereward were 
such as to render it impossible for him to proceed personally 
to the camp of Godfrey ; and though there were many of the 
Varangians in whose fidelity he could have trusted, he knew of 
none among those under his immediate command whose intel- 
ligence, on so novel an occasion, might be entirely depended 
on. In this perplexity, he strolled, perhaps without well know- 
ing why, to the gardens of Agelastes, where fortune once more 
produced him an interview with Bertha. 

No sooner had Hereward made her aware of his difficulty, 
than the faithful bower-maiden’s resolution was taken. 

“ I see,” said she, “ that the peril of this part of the advent- 
ure must rest with me ; and wherefore should it not ? My mis- 
tress, in the bosom of prosperity, offered herself to go forth 
into the wide world for my sake ; I will for hers go to the camp 
of this Frankish lord. He is an honorable man, and a pious 
Christian, and his followers are faithful pilgrims. A woman 
can have nothing to fear who goes to such men upon such an 
errand.” 

The Varangian, however, was too well acquainted with the 
manners of camps to permit the fair Bertha to go alone. He 
provided, therefore, for her safe-guard a trusty old soldier, 
bound to his person by long kindness and confidence, and 
having thoroughly possessed her of the particulars of the mes« 
sage she was to deliver, and desired her to be in readiness with- 
out the enclosure at peep of dawn, returned once more to his 
barracks. 


282 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


With the earliest light, Hereward was again at the spot 
where he had parted overnight with Bertha, accompanied by the 
honest soldier to whose care he meant to confide her. In a 
short time he had seen them safely onboard of a ferry-boat lying 
in the harbor, the master of which readily admitted them, after 
some examination of their license, to pass to Scutari, which was 
forged in the name of the Acolyte, as authorized by that foul 
conspirator, and which agreed with the appearance of old 
Osmund and his young charge. 

The morning was lovely ; and ere long the town of Scutari 
opened on the view of the travellers, glittering, as now, with a 
variety of architecture, which, though it might be termed fan- 
tastical, could not be denied the praise of beauty. These build- 
ings rose boldly out of a thick grove of cypresses, and other 
huge trees, the larger, probably, as they were respected for 
filling the cemeteries, and being the guardians of the dead. 

At the period we mention, another circumstance, no less 
striking than beautiful, rendered doubly interesting a scene 
which must have been at all times greatly so. A large portion 
of that miscellaneous army which came to regain the holy 
places of Palestine, and the blessed Sepulchre itself, from the 
infidels, had established themselves in a camp within a mile, 
or thereabouts, of Scutari. Although, therefore, the crusaders 
were destitute in a great measure of the use of tents, the army 
(excepting the pavilions of some leaders of high rank) had con- 
structed for themselves temporary huts, not unpleasing to the 
eye, being decorated with leaves and flowers, while the tall 
pennons and banners that floated over them with various de- 
vices, showed that the flower of Europe were assembled at that 
place. A loud and varied murmur, resembling that of a thronged 
hive, floated from the camp of the crusaders to the neighboring 
town of Scutari, and every now and then the deep tone was 
broken by some shriller sound, the note of some musical in- 
strument, or the treble scream of some child or female, in fear 
or in gayety. 

The party at length landed in safety ; and as they ap- 
proached one of the gates of the camp, there sallied forth a brisk 
array of gallant cavaliers, pages, and squires, exercising their 
masters’ horses or their own. From the noise they made, con- 
versing at the very top of their voices, galloping, curvetting, 
and prancing their palfreys, it seemed as if their early disci- 
pline had called them to exercise ere the fumes of last night’s 
revel were thoroughly dissipated by repose. So soon as they 
saw Bertha and her party, they approached them with cries 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS 


283 

which marked their country was Italy — “ APerta ! aPerta ! — 
Roba de guadagno, cameradi ! ” * 

They gathered round the Anglo-Saxon maiden and her com- 
panions, repeating their cries in a manner which made Bertha 
tremble. Their general demand was, “ What was her business 
in their camp ? ” 

“ I would to the General-in-chief, cavaliers,” answered 
Bertha, “ having a secret message to his ear.” 

“ For whose ear ? ” said a leader of the party, a handsome 
youth of about eighteen years of age, who seemed either to 
have a sounder brain than his fellows, or to have overflowed it 
with less wine. “ Which of our leaders do you come hither to 
see ? ” he demanded. 

“ Godfrey of Bouillon.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said the page who had spoken first ; “ can 
nothing of less consequence serve thy turn ? Take a look 
amongst us ; young are we all, and reasonably wealthy. My 
Lord of Bouillon is old, and if he has any sequins, he is not 
like to lavish them in this way.” 

“ Still I have a token to Godfrey of Bouillon,” answered 
Bertha, “ an assured one ; and he will little thank any who 
obstructs my free passage to him ; ” and therewithal showing a 
little case, in which the signet of the Count of Paris was en- 
closed, “ I will trust it in your hands,” she said, “ if you prom- 
ise not to open it, but to give me free access to the noble leader 
of the crusaders.” 

“ I will,” said the youth, 11 and if such be the Duke’s pleas- 
ure, thou shalt be admitted to him.” 

“ Ernest the Apulian, thy dainty Italian wit is caught in a 
trap,” said one of his companions. 

“ Thou art an ultramontane fool, Polydore,” returned Er- 
nest ; “ there may be more in this than either thy wit or mine 
is able to fathom. This maiden and one of her attendants wear 
a dress belonging to the Varangian Imperial Guard. They have 
perhaps been intrusted with a message from the Emperor, and 
it is not irreconcilable with Alexius’s politics to send it through 
such messengers as these. Let us, therefore, convey them in 
all honor to the General’s tent.” 

“ With all my heart,” said Polydore. “ A blue-eyed wench 
is a pretty thing, but I like not the sauce of the camp-marshal, 
nor his taste in attiring men who give way to temptation.f 

0 

* That is— “Take heed! take heed ! there is booty, comrades! ” 

1 Persons among the crusaders found guilty of certain offences did penance in a drees 
o£ tar and feathers, though it is supposed a punishment of modern invention. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


284 

Yet, ere I prove a fool like my companion, I would ask who or 
what this pretty maiden is, who comes to put noble princes and 
holy pilgrims in mind that they have in their time had the 
follies of men ? ” 

Bertha advanced and whispered in the ear of Ernest. Mean- 
time joke followed jest, among Polydore and the rest of the 
gay youths, in riotous and ribald succession, which, however 
characteristic of the rude speakers, may as well be omitted 
here. Their effect was to shake in some degree the fortitude 
of the Saxon maiden, who had some difficulty in mustering 
courage to address them. “ As you have mothers, gentlemen,” 
she said, “ as you have fair sisters, whom you would protect 
from dishonor with your best blood — as you love and honor 
those holy places which you are sworn to free from the infidel 
enemy, have compassion on me, that you may merit success in 
your undertaking ! ” 

“ Fear nothing, maiden,” said Ernest, “ I will be your pro- 
tector ; and you, my comrades, be ruled by me. I have, during 
your brawling, taken a view, though somewhat against my 
promise, of the pledge which she bears, and if she who presents 
it is affronted or maltreated, be assured Godfrey of Bouillon 
will severely avenge the wrong done her.” 

“ Nay, comrade, if thou canst warrant us so much,” said 
Polydore, “ I will myself be most anxious to conduct the young 
woman in honor and safety to Sir Godfrey’s tent.” 

“The Princes,” said Ernest, “must be nigh meeting there 
in council. What I have said I will warrant and uphold with 
hand and life. More I might guess, but I conclude this sen- 
sible young maiden can speak for herself.’ ’ 

“ Now, Heaven bless thee, gallant squire,” said Bertha, “ and 
make thee alike brave and fortunate ! Embarrass yourself no 
farther about me, than to deliver me safe to your leader, God- 
frey.” 

“ We spend time,” said Ernest, springing from his horse. 
“ You are no soft Eastern, fair maid, and I presume you will 
find yourself under no difficulty in managing a quiet horse ? ” 

“ Not the least,” said Bertha, as, wrapping herself in her 
cassock, she sprung from the ground, and alighted upon the 
spirited palfrey, as a linnet stoops upon a rose-bush. “ And 
now, sir, as my business really brooks no delay, I will be in- 
debted to you to show me instantly to the tent of Duke God- 
frey of Bopillon.” 

By availing herself of this courtesy of the young Apulian, 
Bertha imprudently separated herself from the old Varangian ; 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


285 

but the intentions of the youth were honorable, and he con- 
ducted her through the tents and huts to the pavilion of the 
celebrated General-in-chief of the Crusade. 

“ Here,” he said, “ you must tarry for a space, under the 
guardianship of my companions ” (for two or three of the pages 
had accompanied them out of curiosity to see the issue), “ and 
I will take the commands of the Duke of Bouillon upon the sub- 
ject.” 

To this nothing could be objected, and Bertha had nothing 
better to do than to admire the outside of the tent, which, in 
one of Alexius’s fits of generosity and munificence, had been 
presented by the Greek Emperor to the Chief of the Franks. 
It was raised upon tall spear-shaped poles, which had the 
semblance of gold ; its curtains were of a thick stuff, manufac- 
tured of silk, cotton, and gold thread. The warders who stood 
round were (at least during the time that the council was held) 
old grave men, the personal squires of the body, most of them, 
of the sovereigns who had taken the Cross, and who could, 
therefore, be trusted as a guard over the assembly, without 
danger of their blabbing what they might overhear. Their 
appearance was serious and considerate, and they looked like 
men who had taken upon them the Cross, not as an idle advent- 
ure of arms, but as a purpose of the most solemn and serious 
nature. One of these stopped the Italian, and demanded what 
business authorized him to press forward into the council of 
the crusaders, who were already taking their seats. The page 
answered by giving his name, “ Ernest of Otranto, page of 
Prince Tancred ; ” and stated that he announced a young 
woman, who bore a token to the Duke of Bouillon, adding that 
it was accompanied by a message for his own ear. 

Bertha, meantime, laid aside her mantle, or upper garment, 
and disposed the rest of her dress according to the Anglo- 
Saxon costume. She had hardly completed this task, before 
the page of Prince Tancred returned, to conduct her into the 
presence of the council of the Crusade. She followed his 
signal ; while the other young men who had accompanied her, 
wondering at the apparent ease with which she gained admit- 
tance, drew back to a respectful distance from the tent, and 
there canvassed the singularity of their morning’s adventure. 

In the meanwhile, the ambassadress herself entered the 
council-chamber, exhibiting an agreeable mixture of shame- 
facedness and reserve, together with a bold determination to 
do her duty at all events. There were about fifteen of the 
principal crusaders assembled in council, with their chieftain 


2 86 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


Godfrey, He himself was a tall strong man, arrived at that 
period of life in which men are supposed to have lost none of 
their resolution, while they have acquired a wisdom and cir- 
cumspection unknown to their earlier years. The countenance 
of Godfrey bespoke both prudence and boldness, and resembled 
his hair, where a few threads of silver were already mingled 
with his raven locks, 

Tancred, the noblest knight of the Christian chivalry, sat at 
no great distance from him, with Hugh, Earl of Vermandois, 
generally called the Great Count, the selfish and wily Bohemond, 
the powerful Raymond of Provence, and others of the princi- 
pal crusaders, all more or less completely sheathed in armor. 

Bertha did not allow her courage to be broken down, but, 
advancing with a timid grace towards Godfrey, she placed in 
his hands the signet which had been restored to her by the 
young page, and after a deep obeisance, spoke these words : 
“Godfrey, Count of Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine the Lower, 
Chief of the Holy Enterprise called the Crusade, and you, his 
gallant comrades, peers, and companions, by whatever titles you 
may be honored, I, an humble maiden of England, daughter of 
Engelred, originally a frankling of Hampshire, and since Chief- 
tain of the Foresters, or free Anglo-Saxons, under the command 
of the celebrated Edric, do claim what credence is due to the 
bearer of the true pledge which I put into your hand, on the 
part of one not the least considerable of your own body, Count 
Robert of Paris ” 

“ Our most honorable confederate,” said Godfrey, looking 
at the ring. “ Most of you, my lords, must, I think, know this 
signet — a field sown with the fragments of many splintered 
lances,” — The signet was handed from one of the assembly to 
another, and generally recognized. 

When Godfrey had signified so much, the maiden resumed 
her message. “ To all true crusaders, therefore, comrades of 
Godfrey of Bouillon, and especially to the Duke himself — to 
all, I say, excepting Bohemond of Tarentum, whom he counts 
unworthy of his notice ” 

“ Hah ! me unworthy of his notice,” said Bohemond. “What 
mean you by that, damsel ? — But the Count of Paris shall 
answer it to me.” 

“Under your favor, Sir Bohemond,” said Godfrey, “no. 
Our articles renounce the sending of challenges among our- 
selves, and the matter, if not dropped betwixt the parties, must 
be referred to the voice of this honorable council.” 

“ I think I guess the business now, my Lord,” said Bohe- 


CO UNT ROBER T OF PARIS. ' 


287 

mond. “ The Count of Paris is disposed to turn and tear me, 
because I offered him good counsel on the evening before we 
left Constantinople, when he neglected to accept or be guided 
by it ” 

“ It will be the more easily explained when we have heard 
his message,” said Godfrey. — “ Speak forth Lord Robert of 
Paris’s charge, damsel, that we may take some order with that 
which now seems a perplexed business.” 

Bertha resumed her message ; and, having briefly narrated 
the recent events, thus concluded : — “ The battle is to be done 
to-morrow about two hours after daybreak, and the Count 
entreats of the noble Duke of Lorraine that he will permit some 
fifty of the lances of France to attend the deed of arms, and 
secure that fair and honorable conduct which he has otherwise 
some doubts of receiving at the hands of his adversary. Or if 
any young and gallant knight should, of his own free will, wish 
to view the said combat, the Count will feel his presence as an 
honor ; always he desires that the name of such knight be 
numbered carefully with the armed crusaders who shall attend 
in the lists, and that the whole shall be limited, by Duke God- 
frey’s own inspection, to fifty lances only, which are enough to 
obtain the protection required, while more would be considered 
as a preparation for aggression upon the Grecians and occasion 
the revival of disputes which are now happily at rest.” 

Bertha had no sooner finished delivering her manifesto, and 
made with great grace her obeisance to the council, than a sort 
of whisper took place in the assembly, which soon assumed a 
more lively tone. 

Their solemn vow not to turn their back upon Palestine, 
now that they had set their hands to the plough, was strongly 
urged by some of the elder knights of the council, and two or 
three high prelates, who had by this time entered to take share 
in the deliberations. The young knights, on the other hand, 
were fired with indignation on hearing the manner in which 
their comrade had been trepanned ; and few of them could 
think of missing a combat in the lists in a country in which 
such sights were so rare, and where one was to be fought so 
near them. 

Godfrey rested his brow on his hand, and seemed in great 
perplexity. To break with the Greeks, after having suffered 
so many injuries in order to maintain the advantage of keeping 
the peace with them, seemed very impolitic, and a sacrifice of 
all he had obtained by a long course of painful forbearance 
towards Alexius Comnenus. On the other hand, he was bound 


288 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


as a man of honor to resent the injury offered to Count 
Robert of Paris, whose reckless spirit of chivalry made him the 
darling of the army. It was the cause, too, of a beautiful lady, 
and a brave one : every knight in the host would think himself 
bound, by his vow, to hasten to her defence. When Godfrey 
spoke, it was to complain of the difficulty of the determination, 
and the short time there was to consider the case. 

“ With submission to my Lord Duke of Lorraine,” said Tan- 
cred, “I was a knight ere I was a crusader, and took on me 
the vows of chivalry, ere I placed this blessed sign upon my 
shoulder ; the vow first made must be first discharged. I will 
therefore do penance for neglecting, for a space, the obligations 
of the second vow, while I observe that which recalls me to the 
first duty of knighthood, — the relief of a distressed lady in the 
hands of men whose conduct towards her, and towards this host, 
in every respect entitles me to call them treacherous faitours.” 

“ If my kinsman Tancred,” said Bohemond, “ will check his 
impetuosity, and you, my lords, will listen, as you have some- 
times deigned to do, to my advice, I think I can direct you how 
to keep clear of any breach of your oath, and yet fully to re- 
lieve our distressed fellow-pilgrims, — I see some suspicious looks 
are cast towards me, which are caused perhaps by the churlish 
manner in which this violent, and, in this case, almost insane 
young warrior, has protested against receiving my assistance. 
My great offence is the having given him warning, by precept 
and example, of the treachery which was about to be practised 
against him, and instructed him to use forbearance and temper- 
ance. My warning he altogether contemned — my example he 
neglected to follow, and fell into the snare which was spread, as 
it were, before his very eyes. Yet the Count of Paris, in 
rashly contemning me, has acted only from a temper which mis- 
fortune and disappointment have rendered irrational and frantic. 
I am so far from bearing him ill-will, that, with your lord- 
ship’s permission, and that of the present council, I will haste 
to the place of rendezvous with fifty lances, making up the 
retinue which attends upon each to at least ten men, which 
will make the stipulated auxiliary force equal to five hundred ; 
and with these I can have little doubt of rescuing the Count 
and his lady.” 

“ Nobly proposed,” said the Duke of Bouillon ; “and with a 
charitable forgiveness of injuries which becomes our Christian 
expedition. But thou hast forgot the main difficulty, brother 
Bohemond, that we are sworn never to turn back upon the 
acred journey.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


289 

“ If we can elude that oath upon the present occasion,” said 
Bohemond, “ it becomes our duty to do so. Are we such bad 
horsemen, or are our steeds so awkward, that we cannot rein 
them back from this to the landing-place at Scutari ? We can 
get them on shipboard in the same retrograde manner, and 
when we arrive in Europe, where our vow binds us not longer, 
the Count and Countess of Paris are rescued, and our vow re- 
mains entire in the Chancery of Heaven.” 

A general shout arose— “ Long life to the gallant Bohemond ! 
—Shame to us if we do not fly to the assistance of so valiant a 
knight, and a lady so lovely, since we can do so without breach 
of our vow.” 

“ The question,” said Godfrey, “ appears to me to oe 
eluded rather than solved ; yet such evasions have been 
admitted by the most learned and scrupulous clerks ; nor do I 
hesitate to admit of Bohemond’s expedient, any more than if 
the enemy had attacked our rear, which might have occasioned 
our counter-marching to be a case of absolute necessity.” 

Some there were in the assembly, particularly the church- 
men, inclined to think that the oath by which the crusaders had 
solemnly bound themselves, ought to be as literally obeyed. 
But Peter the Hermit, who had a place in the council, and 
possessed great weight, declared it as his opinion, “ That since 
the precise observance of their vow would tend to diminish the 
forces of the crusade, it was in fact unlawful, and should not be 
kept according to the literal meaning, if, by a fair construction, 
it could be eluded.” 

He offered himself to back the animal which he bestrode — 
that is, his ass ; and though he was diverted from showing this 
example by the remonstrances of Godfrey of Bouillon, who was 
afraid of his becoming a scandal in the eyes of the heathen, 
yet he so prevailed by his arguments, that the knights, far from 
scrupling to countermarch, eagerly contended which should 
have the honor of making one of the party which should 
retrograde to Constantinople, see the combat, and bring back 
to the host in safety the valorous Count of Paris, of whose 
victory no one doubted, and his Amazonian Countess. 

This emulation was also put an end to by the authority of 
Godfrey, who himself selected the fifty knights who were to 
compose the party. They were chosen from different nations, 
and the command of the whole was given to young Tancred of 
Otranto. Notwithstanding the claim of Bohemond, Godfrey 
detained the latter, under the pretext that his knowledge of the 
country and people was absolutely necessary to enable th* 

19 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


290 

council to form the plan of the campaign in Syria ; but in 
reality he dreaded the selfishness of a man of great ingenuity 
as well as military skill, who, finding himself in a separate 
command, might be tempted, should opportunities arise, to 
enlarge his own power and dominion, at the expense of the 
pious purposes of the crusade in general. The younger men 
of the expedition were chiefly anxious to procure such horses 
as had been thoroughly trained, and could go through with 
ease and temper the manoeuvre of equitation, by which it was 
designed to render legitimate the movement which they had 
recourse to. The selection was at length made, and the 
detachment ordered to draw up in the rear, or upon the 
eastward line of the Christian encampment. In the mean- 
while, Godfrey charged Bertha with a message for the Count of 
Paris, in which, slightly censuring him for not observing more 
caution in his intercourse with the Greeks, he informed him 
that he had sent a detachment of fifty lances, with the 
corresponding squires, pages, men-at-arms, and cross-bows, 
five hundred in number, commanded by the valiant Tancred, to 
his assistance. The Duke also informed him, that he had 
added a suit of armor of the best temper Milan could afford, 
together with a trusty war-horse, which he entreated him to use 
upon the field of battle ; for Bertha had not omitted to intimate 
Count Robert’s want of the means of knightly equipment. The 
horse was brought before the pavilion accordingly, completely 
barbed or armed in steel, and laden with armor for the knight’s 
body. Godfrey himself put the bridle into Bertha’s hand. 

“Thou need’st not fear to trust thyself with this steed ; he 
is as gentle and docile as he is fleet and brave. Place thyself 
on his back, and take heed thou stir not from the side of the 
noble Prince Tancred of Otranto, who will be the faithful de- 
fender of a maiden that has this day shown dexterity, courage, 
and fidelity.” 

Bertha bowed low, as her cheeks glowed at praise fiom one 
whose talents and worth were in such general esteem, as to 
have raised him to the distinguished situation of leader of a 
host which numbered in it the bravest and most distinguished 
captains of Christendom. 

“ Who are yon two persons ? ” continued Godfrey, speaking 
of the companions of Bertha, whom he saw in the distance before 
the tent. 

“ The one,” answered the damsel “ is the master of the ferry- 
boat which brought me over, and the other an old Varangian 
who came hither as my protector.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


291 


“ As they may come to employ their eyes here, and their 
tongues on the opposite side,” returned the general of the cru- 
saders, “ I do not think it prudent to let them accompany you. 
They shall remain here for some short time. The citizens of 
Scutari will not comprehend for some space what our intention 
is ; and I could wish Prince Tancred and his attendants to be 
the first to announce their own arrival.” 

Bertha accordingly intimated the pleasure of the French 
general to the parties, without naming his motives ; when the 
ferryman began to exclaim on the hardship of intercepting him 
in his trade, and Osmund to complain of being detained from 
his duties. But Bertha, by the orders of Godfrey, left them, 
with the assurance that they would be soon at liberty. Finding 
themselves thus abandoned, each applied himself to his fa- 
favorite amusement. The ferryman occupied himself in staring 
about at all that was new ; and Osmund, having in the mean- 
time accepted an offer of breakfast from some of the domestics, 
was presently engaged with a flask of such red wine as would 
have reconciled him to a worse lot than that which he at 
present experienced. 

The detachment of Tancred, fifty spears and their armed 
retinue, which amounted fully to five hundred men, after 
having taken a short and hasty refreshment, were in arms and 
mounted before the sultry hour of noon. After some manoeuvres, 
of which the Greeks of Scutari, whose curiosity was awakened 
by the preparations of the detachment, were at a loss to 
comprehend the purpose, they formed into a single column, 
having four men in front. When the horses were in this 
position, the whole riders at once began to rein back. The 
action was one to which both the cavaliers and their horses 
were well accustomed ; nor did it at first afford much surprise 
to the spectators ; but when the same retrograde evolution was 
continued, and the body of crusaders seemed about to enter the 
town of Scutari in so extraordinary a fashion, some idea of the 
truth began to occupy the citizens. The cry at length was 
general, when Tancred and a few others, whose horses were 
unusually well trained, arrived at the port, and possessed 
themselves of a galley, into which they led their horses, and, 
disregarding all opposition from the Imperial officers of the 
haven, pushed the vessel off from the shore. 

Other cavaliers did not accomplish their purpose so easily ; 
the riders, or the horses, were less accustomed to continue in 
the constrained pace for such a considerable length of time, so 
that many of the knights, having retrograded for one or two 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


292 

hundred yards, thought their vow was sufficiently observed by 
having so far deferred to it, and, riding in the ordinary manner 
into the town, seized without further ceremony on some vessels, 
which, notwithstanding the orders of the Greek Emperor, had 
been allowed to remain on the Asiatic side of the strait. Some 
less able horsemen met with various accidents ; for though it 
was a proverb of the time, that nothing was so bold as a blind 
horse, yet from this mode of equitation, where neither horse nor 
rider saw the way he was going, some steeds were overthrown, 
others backed upon dangerous obstacles ; and the bones of the 
cavaliers themselves suffered much more than would have been 
the case in an ordinary march. 

Those horsemen, also, who met with falls, incurred the danger 
of being slain by the Greeks, had not Godfrey, surmounting his 
religious scruples, despatched a squadron to extricate them — a 
task which they performed with great ease. The greater part 
of Tancred’s followers succeeded in embarking, as was intended, 
nor was there more than a score or two finally amissing. To 
accomplish their voyage, however, even the Prince of Otranto 
himself, and most of his followers, were obliged to betake them- 
selves to the unknightly labors of the oar. This they found 
extremely difficult, as well from the state both of the tide and 
the wind, as from the want of practice at the exercise. Godfrey 
in person viewed their progress anxiously, from a neighboring 
height, and perceived with regret the difficulty which they found 
in making their way, which was still more increased by the neces- 
sity for their keeping in a body, and waiting for the slowest and 
worst manned vessels, which considerably detained those that 
were more expeditious. They made some progress, however ; 
nor had the commander-in-chief the least doubt, that before sun- 
set they would safely reach the opposite side of the strait. 

He retired at length from his post of observation, having 
placed a careful sentinel in his stead, with directions to bring 
him word the instant that the detachment reached the opposite 
shore. This the soldier could easily discern by the eye, if it 
was daylight at the time ; if, on the contrary, it was night before 
they could arrive, the Prince of Otranto had orders to show 
certain lights, which, in case of their meeting resistance from 
the Greeks, should be arranged in a peculiar manner, so as to 
indicate danger. 

Godfrey then explained to the Greek authorities of Scutari, 
whom he summoned before him, the necessity there was that 
he should keep in readiness such vessels as could be procured, 
with which, in case of need ? he was determined to transport a 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


2 93 

strong division from his army to support those who had gone 
before. He then rode back to his camp, the confused murmurs 
of which, rendered more noisy by the various discussions con- 
cerning the events of the day, rolled off from the numerous 
host of the crusaders, and mingled with the hoarse sound of 
the many-billowed Hellespont. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH. 

All is prepared— the chambers of the mine 

Are cramm’d with the combustible, which, harmless 

While yet unkindled, as the sable sand, 

Needs but a spark to change its nature so, 

That he who wakes it from its slumbrous mood, 

Dreads scarce the explosion less than he who knows 
That ’tis his towers which meet its fury. 

Anonymous. 

When the sky is darkened suddenly, and the atmosphere 
grows thick and stifling, the lower ranks of creation entertain 
the ominous sense of a coming tempest. The birds fly to the 
thickets, the wild creatures retreat to the closest covers which 
their instinct gives them the habit of frequenting, and domestic 
animals show their apprehension of the approaching thunder- 
storm by singular actions and movements inferring fear and 
disturbance. 

It seems that human nature, when its original habits are 
cultivated and attended to, possesses, on similar occasions, 
something of that prescient foreboding, which announces the 
approaching tempest to the inferior ranks of creation. The 
cultivation of our intellectual powers goes perhaps too far, 
when it teaches us entirely to suppress and disregard those 
natural feelings, which were originally designed as sentinels by 
which nature warned us of impending danger. 

Something of the kind, however, still remains, and that 
species of feeling which announces to us sorrowful or alarming 
tidings, may be said, like the prophecies of the weird sisters, 
to come over us like a sudden cloud. 

During the fatal day which was to precede the combat of 
the Caesar with the Count of Paris, there were current through 
the city of Constantinople the most contradictory, and at the 
same time the most terrific reports. Privy conspiracy, it was 
alleged, was on the very eve of breaking out ; open war, it was 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


294 

reported by others, was about to shake her banners over the 
devoted city ; the precise cause was not agreed upon, any more 
than the nature of the enemy. Some said that the barbarians 
from the borders of Thracia, the Hungarians, as they were 
termed, and the Comani, were on their march from the frontiers 
to surprise the city ; another report stated that the Turks, who, 
during this period, were established in Asia, had resolved to 
prevent the threatened attack of the crusaders upon Palestine, 
by surprising not only the Western Pilgrims, but the Christians 
of the East, by one of their innumerable invasions, executed 
with their characteristic rapidity. 

Another report, approaching more near to the truth, declared 
that the crusaders themselves, having discovered their various 
causes of complaint against Alexius Comnenus, had resolved to 
march. back their united forces to the capital, with a view of 
dethroning or chastising him ; and the citizens were dreadfully 
alarmed for the consequences of the resentment of men so fierce 
in their habits and so strange in their manners. In short, 
although they did not all agree on the precise cause of danger, 
it was yet generally allowed that something of a dreadful kind 
was impending, which appeared to be in a certain degree con- 
firmed by the motions that were taking place among the troops.. 
The Varangians, as well as the Immortals, were gradually 
assembled, and placed in occupation of the strongest parts of 
the city, until at length the fleet of galleys, row-boats, and trans- 
ports, occupied by Tancred and his party, were observed to 
put themselves in motion from Scutari, and attempt to gain 
such a height on the narrow sea, as upon the turn of the tide 
should transport them to the port of the capital. 

Alexius Comnenus was himself struck at this unexpected 
movement on the part of the crusaders. Yet, after some con- 
versation with Hereward, on whom he had determined to 
repose his confidence, and had now gone too far to retreat, he 
became reassured, the more especially by the limited size of 
the detachment which seemed to meditate so bold a measure 
as an attack upon his capital. To those around him he said 
with carelessness, that it was hardly to be supposed that a 
trumpet could blow to the charge, within hearing of the cru- 
saders’ camp, without some out of so many knights coming 
forth to see the cause and the issue of the conflict. 

The conspirators also had their secret fears 'when the little 
armament of Tancred had been seen on the straits. Agelastes 
mounted a mule, and went to the shore of the sea, at the place 
now called Galata. He met Bertha’s old ferryman, whom 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


2 9 $ 

Godfrey had set at liberty, partly in contempt, and partly that 
the report he was likely to make might serve to amuse the 
conspirators in the city. Closely examined by Agelastes, he 
confessed that the present detachment, so far as he understood, 
was despatched at the instance of Bohemond, and was under 
the command of his kinsman Tancred, whose well-known banner 
was floating from the headmost vessel. This gave courage to 
Agelastes, who, in the course of his intrigues, had opened a 
private communication with the wily and ever mercenary Prince 
of Antioch. The object of the philosopher had been to obtain 
from Bohemond a body of his followers to co-operate in the 
intended conspiracy, and fortify the party of insurgents. It is 
true, that Bohemond had returned no answer, but the account 
now given by the ferryman, and the sight of Tancred the 
kinsman of Bohemond’s banner displayed on the straits, satisfied 
the philosopher that his offers, his presents, and his promises, 
had gained to his side the avaricious Italian, and that this band 
had been selected by Bohemond, and were coming to act in his 
favor. 

As Agelastes turned to go off, he almost jostled a person, 
as much muffled up, and apparently as unwilling to be known, 
as the philosopher himself. Alexius Comnenus, however— for 
it was the Emperor himself — knew Agelastes, though rather 
from his stature and gestures, than his countenance ; and could 
not forbear whispering in his ear, as he passed, the well-known 
lines, to which the pretended sage’s various acquisitions gave 
some degree of point : — 

“ Grammaticus, rhetor, geometres, pictor, aliptes, 

Augur, schcenobates, medicus, magus ; omnia novit. 

Graeculus esuriens, in ccelum, jusseris, ibit.” # 

Agelastes first started at the unexpected sound of the Empe- 
ror’s voice, yet immediately recovered presence of mind, the 
want of which had made him suspect himself betrayed ; and 
without taking notice of the rank of the person to whom he 
spoke, he answered by a quotation which should return the 
alarm he had received. The speech that suggested itself was 
said to be that which the phantom of Cleonice dinned into the 
ears of the tyrant who murdered her : — 

“ Tu cole justitiam ; teque atque alios manet ultor.” f 

* The lines of Juvenal [Sat. iii. 76] imitated by Johnson in his London — 

“ All sciences a fasting Monsieur knows, 

“ And bid him go to hell —to hell he goes.” 
t “Do thou cultivate justice; for thee and for others there remains an avenger.**— 

Ovid. Met. 


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296 

The sentence, and the recollections which accompanied it^ 
thrilled through the heart of the Emperor, who walked on, 
however, without any notice or reply. 

“ The vile conspirator,” he said, “ had his associates around 
him, otherwise he had not hazarded that threat. Or it may 
have been worse — Agelastes himself, on the very brink of this 
world, may have obtained that singular glance into futurity 
proper to that situation, and perhaps speaks less from his own 
reflection than from a strange spirit of prescience, which dictates 
his words. Have I then in earnest sinned so far in my imperial 
duty, as to make it just to apply to me the warning used by the 
injured Cleonice to her ravisher and murderer ? Methinks I 
have not. Methinks that at less expense than that of a just 
severity, I could ill have kept my seat in the high place where 
Heaven has been pleased to seat me, and where, as a ruler, I 
am bound to maintain my station. Methinks the sum of those 
who have experienced my clemency may be well numbered with 
that of such as have sustained the deserved punishments of 
their guilt — But has that vengeance, however deserved in itself, 
been always taken in a legal or justifiable manner ? My con- 
science, I doubt, will hardly answer so home a question ; and 
where is the man, had he the virtues of Antoninus himself, 
that can hold so high and responsible a place, yet sustain such 
an interrogation as is implied in that sort of warning which I 
have received from this traitor? Tu cole justitiam — we all 
need to use justice to others — Teque atque alios manet ultor — 
we are all amenable to an avenging being — I will see the 
Patriarch — instantly will I see him ; and by confessing my 
transgressions to the Church, I will, by her plenary indulgence, 
acquire the right of spending the last day of my reign in a con- 
sciousness of innocence, or at least of pardon — a state of mind 
rarely the lot of those whose lines have fallen in lofty places.” 

So saying, he passed to the palace of Zosimus the Patriarch, 
to whom he could unbosom himself with more safety, because 
he had long considered Agelastes as a private enemy to the 
Church, and a man attached to the ancient doctrines of heathen- 
ism. In the councils of the state they were also opposed to 
each other, nor did the Emperor doubt, that in communicating 
the secret of the conspiracy to the Patriarch, he was sure to 
attain a loyal and firm supporter in the defence which he pro- 
posed to himself. He therefore gave a signal by a low whistle, 
and a confidential officer, well mounted, approached him, who 
attended him in his ride, though unostentatiously, and at some 
distance. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


2 97 

In this manner, therefore, Alexius Comnenus proceeded to 
the palace of the Patriarch, with as much speed as was con- 
sistent with his purpose of avoiding to attract any particular 
notice as he passed through the street. During the whole ride, 
the warning of Agelastes repeatedly occurred to him, and his 
conscience reminded him of too many actions of his reign 
which could only be justified by necessity, emphatically said to 
be the tyrant’s plea, and which were of themselves deserving 
the dire vengeance so long delayed. 

When he came in sight of the splendid towers which 
adorned the front of the patriarchal palace, he turned aside from 
the lofty gates, repaired to a narrow court, and again giving his 
mule to his attendant, he stopped before a postern, whose low 
arch and humble architrave seemed to exclude the possibility 
of its leading to any place of importance. On knocking, how- 
ever, a priest of an inferior order opened the door, who, with a 
deep reverence, received the Emperor so soon as he had made 
himself known, and conducted him into the interior of the 
palace. Demanding a secret interview with the Patriarch, 
Alexius was then ushered into his private library, where he 
was received by the aged priest with the deepest respect, which 
the nature of his communication soon changed into horror and 
astonishment. 

Although Alexius was supposed by many of his own court, 
and particularly by some members of his own family, to be 
little better than a hypocrite in his religious professions, yet 
such severe observers were unjust in branding him with a name 
so odious. He was indeed aware of the great support which 
he received from the good opinion of the clergy, and to them 
he was willing to make sacrifices for the advantage of the 
Church, or of individual prelates who manifested fidelity to 
the crown ; but though, on the one hand, such sacrifices were 
rarely made by Alexius, without a view to temporal policy, yet, 
on the other, he regarded them as recommended by his de- 
votional feelings, and took credit to himself for various grants 
and actions, as dictated by sincere piety, which, in another 
aspect, were the fruits of temporal policy. His mode of look- 
ing on these measures was that of a person with oblique vision, 
who sees an object in a different manner, according to the 
point from which he chances to contemplate it. 

The Emperor placed his own errors of government before 
the Patriarch in his confession, giving due weight to every 
breach of morality as it occurred, and stripping from them the 
lineaments and palliative circumstances which had in his own 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


imagination lessened their guilt. The Patriarch heard, to his 
astonishment, the real thread of many a court intrigue, which 
had borne a very different appearance, till the Emperor’s nar- 
rative either justified his conduct upon the occasion, or left it 
totally unjustifiable. Upon the whole, the balance was cer- 
tainly more in favor of Alexius than the Patriarch had sup- 
posed likely in that more distant view he had taken of the 
intrigues of the court, when, as usual, the ministers and the 
courtiers endeavored to make up for the applause which they 
had given in council to the most blamable actions of the abso- 
lute monarch, by elsewhere imputing to his motives greater 
guilt then really belonged to them. Many men who had fallen 
sacrifices, it was supposed, to the personal spleen or jealousy 
of the Emperor, appeared to have been in fact removed from 
life, or from liberty, because their enjoying either was inconsist- 
ent with the quiet of the state and the safety of the monarch. 

Zosimus also learned, what he perhaps already suspected, 
that, amidst the profound silence of despotism, which seemed 
to pervade the Grecian empire, it heaved frequently with con- 
vulsive throes, which ever and anon made obvious the existence 
of a volcano under the surface. Thus, while smaller delin- 
quencies, or avowed discontent with the Imperial government, 
seldom occurred, and were severely punished when they did, 
the deepest and most mortal conspiracies against the life and 
the authority of the Emperor were cherished by those nearest 
to his person ; and he was often himself aware of them, though 
it was not until they approached an explosion that he dared act 
upon his knowledge, and punish the conspirators. 

The whole treason of the Caesar, with his associates, 
Agelastes and Achilles Tatius, was heard by the Patriarch with 
wonder and astonishment, and he was particularly surprised at 
the dexterity with which the Emperor, knowing the existence 
of so dangerous a conspiracy at home, had been able to parry 
the danger from the crusaders occurring at the same moment. 

" In that respect,” said the Emperor, to whom indeed the 
churchman hinted his surprise, “ I have been singularly unfor- 
tunate. Had I been secure of the forces of my own empire, 
I might have taken one out of two manly and open courses 
with these frantic warriors of the west — I might, my reverend 
father, have devoted the sums paid to Bohemond and other of 
the more selfish among the crusaders, to the honest and open 
support of the army of western Christians, and safely trans- 
ported them to Palestine, without exposing them to the great 
loss which they are likely to sustain by the opposition of the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


299 

Infidels ; their success would have been in fact my own, and a 
Latin kingdom in Palestine, defended by its steel-clad warriors, 
would have been a safe and unexpugnable barrier of the em- 
pire against the Saracens. Or, if it was thought more expedi- 
ent for the protection of the empire and the holy Church, over 
which you are ruler, we might at once, and by open force, have 
defended the frontiers of our states against a host commanded 
by so many different and discording chiefs, and advancing upon 
us with such equivocal intentions. If the first swarm of these 
locusts, under him whom they called Walter the Penniless, was 
thinned by the Hungarians, and totally destroyed by the Turks, 
as the pyramids of bones on the frontiers of the country still 
keep in memory, surely the united forces of the Grecian empire 
would have had little difficulty in scattering this second flight, 
though commanded by these Godfreys, Bohemonds, and Tan- 
creds.” 

The Patriarch was silent, for though he disliked, or rather 
detested the crusaders, as members of the Latin Church, he 
yet thought it highly doubtful that in feats of battle they could 
have been met and overcome by the Grecian forces. 

“ At any rate,” said Alexius, rightly interpreting his si- 
lence, “ if vanquished, I had fallen under my shield as a Greek 
emperor should, nor had I been forced into these mean meas- 
ures of attacking men by stealth, and with forces disguised as 
infidels ; while the lives of the faithful soldiers of the empire, 
who have fallen in obscure skirmishes, had better, both for 
them and me, been lost bravely in their ranks, avowedly fight- 
ing for their native emperor and their native country. Now, 
and as the matter stands, I shall be handed down to posterity 
as a wily tyrant, who engaged his subjects in fatal feuds for the 
safety of his own obscure life. Patriarch, these crimes rest not 
with me, but with the rebels whose intrigues compelled me into 
such courses — What, reverend father, will be my fate here- 
after ? — and in what light shall I descend to posterity, the 
author of so many disasters ? ” 

“For futurity,” said the Patriarch, “your grace hath re- 
ferred yourself to the holy Church, which hath power to bind 
and to loose ; your means of propitiating her are ample, and I 
have already indicated such as she may reasonably expect, in 
consequence of your repentance and forgiveness.” 

“They shall be granted,” replied the Emperor, “in their 
fullest extent ; nor will I injure you in doubting their effect in 
the next world. In this present state of existence, however, 
the favorable opinion of the Church may do much for me 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


300 

during this important crisis. If we understand each other, 
good Zosimus, her doctors and bishops are to thunder in my 
behalf, nor is my benefit from her pardon to be deferred till the 
funeral monument closes upon me ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” said Zozimus ; “ the conditions which I 
have already stipulated being strictly attended to.” 

“ And my memory in history,” said Alexius, “ in what man- 
ner is that to be preserved ? ” 

“ For that,” answered the Patriarch, your Imperial Majesty 
must trust to the filial piety and literary talents of your accom- 
plished daughter, Anna Comnena.” 

The Emperor shook his head. “ This unhappy Caesar,” he 
said, “ is like to make a quarrel between us ; for I shall scarce 
pardon so ungrateful a rebel as he is, because my daughter 
clings to him with a woman’s fondness. Besides, good Zozimus, 
it is not, I believe, the page of a historian such as my daughter 
that is most likely to be received without challenge by posterity. 
Some Procopius, some philosophical slave, starving in a garret, 
aspires to write the life of an Emperor whom he durst not 
approach ; and although the principal merit of his production 
be, that it contains particulars upon the subject which no man 
durst have promulgated while the prince was living, yet no man 
hesitates to admit such as true when he has passed from the 
scene.” 

On that subject,” said Zosimus, “ I can neither afford your 
Imperial Majesty relief nor protection. If, however, your 
memory is unjustly slandered upon earth, it will be a matter of 
indifference to your Highness, who will be then, I trust, enjoy- 
ing a state of beatitude which idle slander cannot assail. The 
only way, indeed, to avoid it while on this side of time, would 
be to write your Majesty’s own memoirs while you are yet in the 
body ; so convinced am I that it is in your power to assign legiti- 
mate excuses for those actions of your life, which, without your 
doing so, would seem most worthy of censure.” 

“ Change we the subject,” said the Emperor ; “ and since 
the danger is imminent, let us take care for the present, and 
leave future ages to judge for themselves. — What circumstance 
is it, reverend father, in your opinion, which encourages these 
conspirators to make so audacious an appeal to the populace 
and the Grecian soldiers ? ” 

“ Certainly,” answered the Patriarch, “ the most irritating 
incident of your Highness’s reign was the fate of Ursel, who, 
submitting, it is said, upon capitulation, for life, limb, and 
ilberty, was starved to death by your orders, in the dungeons 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


3 <>/ 


of the Blacquernal, and whose courage, liberality, and other 
popular virtues, are still fondly remembered by the citizens of 
this metropolis, and by the soldiers of the guard, called Immor- 
tal.” 

“ And this,” said the Emperor, fixing his eye upon his con- 
fessor, “ your reverence esteems actually the most dangerous 
point of the popular tumult.” 

“ I cannot doubt,” said the Patriarch, “ that his very name, 
boldly pronounced, and artfully repeated, will be the watch- 
word, as has been plotted, of a horrible tumult.” 

“ I thank Heaven ! ” said the Emperor ; “ on that particular 
I will be on my guard. Good-night to your reverence ! and, 
believe me, that all in this scroll, to which I have set my hand, 
shall be with the utmost fidelity accomplished. Be not, how- 
ever, over impatient in this business ; — such a shower of bene- 
fits falling at once upon the Church would make men suspicious 
that the prelates and ministers proceeded rather as acting upon 
a bargain between the Emperor and Patriarch, than as paying 
or receiving an atonement offered by a sinner in excuse of his 
crimes. This would be injurious, father, both to yourself and 
me.” 

“All regular delay,” said the Patriarch, “shall be inter- 
posed at your Highness’s pleasure ; and we shall trust to you for 
recollection that the bargain, if it could be termed one, was of 
your own seeking, and that the benefit to the Church was 
contingent upon the pardon and the support which she has 
afforded to your Majesty.” 

“True,” said the Emperor — “ most true — nor shall I forget 
it. Once more adieu, and forget not what I have told thee. 
This is a night, Zosimus, in which the Emperor must toil like 
a slave, if he means not to return to the humble Alexius Com- 
nenus, and even there were no resting-place.” 

So saying, he took leave of the Patriarch, who was highly 
gratified with the advantages he had obtained for the Church, 
which many of his predecessors had struggled for in vain. He 
resolved, therefore, to support the staggering Alexius. 


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304 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH. 

Heaven knows its time; the bullet has its billet, 

Arrow and javeline each its destined purpose ; 

The fated beasts of Nature’s lower strain 
Have each their separate task. 

Old Play. 

Agelastes, after crossing the Emperor in the manner we 
have already described, and after having taken such measures 
as occurred to him to ensure the success of the conspiracy, 
returned to the lodge of his garden, where the lady of the 
Count of Paris still remained, her only companion being an old 
woman named Vexhelia, the wife of the soldier who accompa- 
nied Bertha to the camp of the Crusaders ; the kind-hearted 
maiden having stipulated that, during her absence, her mistress 
was not to be left without an attendant, and that attendant con- 
nected with the Varangian guard. He had been all day playing 
the part of the ambitious politician, the selfish time-server, 
the dark and subtle conspirator ; and now it seemed as if, to 
exhaust the catalogue of his various parts in the human drama, 
he chose to exhibit himself in the character of the wily 
sophist, and justify, or seem to justify, the arts by which he had 
risen to wealth and eminence, and hoped even now to arise to 
royalty itself. 

“Fair Countess,” he said, “ what occasion is there for your 
wearing this veil of sadness over a countenance so lovely ? ” 

“ Do you suppose me,” said Brenhilda, “ a stock, a stone, or 
a creature without the feelings of a sensitive'being, that I should 
endure mortification, imprisonment, danger and distress, with- 
out expressing the natural feelings of humanity ? Do you 
imagine that to a lady like me, as free as the unreclaimed falcon, 
you can offer the insult of captivity, without my being sensible 
to the disgrace, or incensed against the authors of it ? And 
dost thou think that I will receive consolation at thy hands — 
at thine — one of the most active artificers in this web of treach- 
ery in which I am so basel) entangled ? ” 

Not entangled certainly by my means,” — answered Age- 
lastes ; “clap your hands, call for what you wish, and the slave 
who refuses instant obedience had better been unborn. Had I 
not, with reference to your safety and your honor, agreed for 


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303 

a short time to be your keeper, that office would have been 
usurped by the Caesar, whose object you know, and may partly 
guess the modes by which it would be pursued. Why then 
dost thou childishly weep at being held for a short space in 
an honorable restraint, which the renowned arms of your 
husband will probably put an end to long ere to-morrow at 
noon ? ” 

“ Canst thou not comprehend,” said the Countess, “ thou 
man of many words but of few honorable thoughts, that a heart 
like mine, which has been trained in the feelings of reliance 
upon my own worth and valor, must be necessarily affected 
with shame at being obliged to accept, even from the sword of 
a husband, that safety which I would gladly have owed only to 
my own ? ” 

“ Thou art misled, Countess,” answered the philosopher, 
“ by thy pride, a failing predominant in woman. Thinkest thou 
there has been no offensive assumption in laying aside the 
character of a mother and a wife, and adopting that of one of 
those brain-sick female fools, who, like the bravoes of the other 
sex, sacrifice everything that is honorable or useful to a frantic 
and insane affectation of courage ? Believe me, fair lady, that 
the true system of virtue consists in filling thine own place 
gracefully in society, breeding up thy children, and delighting 
those of the other sex, and anything beyond this may well 
render thee hateful or terrible, but can add nothing to thy 
amiable qualities.” 

“ Thou pretendest,” said the Countess, “ to be a philosopher ; 
methinks thou shouldst know, that the fame which hangs its 
chaplet on the tomb of a brave hero or heroine, is worth all 
the petty engagements in which ordinary persons spend the cur- 
rent of "their time. One hour of life, crowded to the full with 
glorious actions, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years 
of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men 
steal through existence like sluggish waters through a marsh, 
without either honor or observation.” 

“ Daughter,” said Agelastes, approaching nearer to the lady, 
“ it is with pain I see you bewildered in errors which a little 
calm reflection might remove. We may flatter ourselves, and 
human vanity usually does so, that beings infinitely more 
powerful than those belonging to mere humanity are employed 
daily in measuring out the good and evil of this world, the 
termination of combats, or the fate of empires, according to 
their own ideas of what is right or wrong, or, more properly, 
according to what we ourselves conceive to be such. The Greek 


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3°4 

heathens, renowned for their wisdom, and glorious for their 
actions, explained to men of ordinary minds the supposed exist- 
ence of Jupiter and his Pantheon, where various deities presided 
over various virtues and vices, and regulated the temporal for- 
tune and future happiness of such as practised them. The 
more learned and wise of the ancients rejected such a vulgar 
interpretation, and wisely, although affecting a deference to the 
public faith, denied before their disciples in private the gross 
fallacies of Tartarus and Olympus, the vain doctrines concern- 
ing the gods themselves, and the extravagant expectations which 
the vulgar entertained of an immortality, supposed to be pos- 
sessed by creatures who were in every respect mortal, both in 
the conformation of their bodies, and in the eternal belief of 
their souls. Of these wise and good men some granted the 
existence of the supposed deities, but denied that they cared 
about the actions of mankind any more than those of the infe- 
rior animals. A merry, jovial, careless life, such as the follow- 
ers of Epicurius would choose for themselves, was what they 
assigned for those gods whose being they admitted. Others 
more bold or more consistent, entirely denied the existence of 
deities who apparently had no proper object or purpose, and 
believed that such of them, whose being and attributes were 
proved to us by no supernatural appearances, had in reality no 
existence whatever.” 

“ Stop, wretch ! ” said the Countess, and know that thou 
speakest not to one of those blinded heathens, of whose abomi- 
nable doctrines you are detailing the result. Know, that if an 
erring, I am nevertheless a sincere daughter of the Church, and 
this cross displayed on my shoulder is a sufficient emblem of 
the vows I have undertaken in its cause. Be therefore wary, 
as thou art wily ; for, believe me, if thou scoffest or utterest re- 
proach against my holy religion, what I am unable to answer 
in language, I will reply to, without hesitation, with the point 
of my dagger.” 

_ To that argument,” said Agelastes, drawing back from the 
neighborhood of Brenhilda, “ believe me, fair lady, I am very 
unwilling to urge your gentleness. But although I shall not 
venture to say anything of those superior and benevolent 
powers to whom you ascribe the management of the world, you 
will surely not take offence at my noticing those base supersti- 
tions which have been adopted in explanation of what is called 
by the Magi, the Evil Principle. Was there ever received into 
a human creed, a being so mean — almost so ridiculous — as the 
Christian Satan ? A goatish figure and limbs, with grotesque 


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3°5 

features, formed to express the most execrable passions; a 
degree of power scarce inferior to that of the Deity ; and a 
talent at the same time scarce equal to that of the stupidest of 
the lowest order ! What is he, this being, who is at least the 
second arbiter of the human race, save an immortal spirit, 
with the petty spleen and spite of a vindictive old man or old 
woman ? ” 

Agelastes made a singular pause in this part of his discourse, 
A mirror of considerable size hung in the apartment, so that 
the philosopher could see in its reflection the figure of Brenhil- 
da, and remark the change of her countenance, though she had 
averted her face from him in hatred of the doctrines which he 
promulgated. On this glass the philosopher had his eyes 
naturally fixed, and he was confounded at perceiving a figure 
glide from behind the shadow of a curtain, and glare at him 
with the supposed mien and expression of the Satan of monkish 
mythology, or a satyr of the heathen age. 

“ Man ! ” said Brenhilda, whose attention was attracted by 
this extraordinary apparition, as it seemed, of the fiend, “ have 
thy wicked words, and still more wicked thoughts, brought the 
devil amongst us ? If so, dismiss him instantly, else, by Our 
Lady of the Broken Lances ! thou shalt know better than at 
present what is the temper of a Frankish maiden, when in pres- 
ence of the fiend himself, and those who pretend skill to raise 
him ! I wish not to enter into a contest unless compelled ; but 
if I am obliged to join battle with an enemy so horrible, believe 
me, no one shall say that Brenhilda feared him.” 

Agelastes, after looking with surprise and horror at the 
figure as reflected in the glass, turned back his head to examine 
the substance, of which the reflection was so strange. The 
object, however, had disappeared behind the curtain, under 
which it probably lay hid, and it was after a minute or two that 
the half-gibing, half-scowling countenance showed itself again 
in the same position in the mirror. 

“ By the gods ! ” said Agelastes 

“ In whom but now,” said the Countess, “you professed un- 
belief.” 

“ By the gods ! ” repeated Agelastes, in part recovering 
himself, “ it is Sylvan ! that singular mockery of humanity, who 
was said to have been brought from Taprobana. I warrant he 
also believes in his jolly god Pan, or the veteran Sylvanus. He 
is to the uninitiated a creature whose appearance is full of ter- 
rors, but he shrinks before the philosopher like ignorance before 
knowledge.” So saying, he with one hand pulled down the 

20 


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3°6 

curtain, under which the animal had nestled itself when it en- 
tered from the garden window of the pavilion, and with the 
other, in which he had a staff uplifted, threatened to chastise 
the creature, with the words — “ How now, Sylvanus ! what in- 
solence is this ? — to your place ! ” 

As, in uttering these words, he struck the animal, the blow 
unluckily lighted upon his wounded hand, and recalled its 
bitter smart. The wild temper of the creature returned, unsub- 
dued for the moment by any awe of man ; uttering a fierce, and, 
at the same time, stifled cry, it flew on the philosopher, and 
clasped its strong and sinewy arms about his throat with the 
utmost fury. The old man twisted and struggled to deliver 
himself from the creature’s grasp, but in vain. Sylvan kept 
hold of his prize, compressed his sinewy arms, and abode by his 
purpose of not quitting his hold of the philosopher’s throat until 
he had breathed his last. T wo more bitter yells, accompanied 
each with a desperate contortion of the countenance, and 
squeeze of the hands, concluded, in less than ten minutes, the 
dreadful strife. 

Agelastes lay dead upon the ground, and his assassin 
Sylvan, springing from the body as if terrified and alarmed at 
what he had done, made his escape by the window. The 
Countess stood in astonishment, not knowing exactly whether 
she had witnessed a supernatural display of the judgment of 
Heaven, or an instance of its vengeance by mere mortal means. 
Her new attendant Vexhelia was no less astonished, though 
her acquaintance with the animal was considerably more 
intimate. 

“ Lady,” she said, “ that gigantic creature is an animal of 
great strength, resembling mankind in form, but huge in its 
size, and encouraged by its immense power, sometimes malevo- 
lent in its intercourse with mortals. I have heard the Varan- 
gians often talk of it as belonging to the Imperial museum. It 
is fitting we remove the body of this unhappy man, and hide it 
in a plot of shrubbery in the garden. It is not likely that he 
will be missed to-night, and to-morrow there will be other mat- 
ter astir, which will probably prevent much inquiry about him.” 
The Countess Brenhilda assented, for she was not one of those 
timorous females to whom the countenances of the dead are 
objects of terror. 

Trusting to the parole which she had given, Agelastes had 
permitted the Countess and her attendant the freedom of his 
gardens, of that part at least adjacent to the pavilion. They 
therefore were in little risk of interruption as they bore forth 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


307 

the dead body between them, and without much trouble dis- 
posed of it in the thickest part of one of the bosquets with 
which the garden was studded. 

As they returned to their place of abode or confinement, the 
Countess, half speaking to herself, half addressing Vexhelia, 
said, “I am sorry for this; not that the infamous wretch did 
not deserve the full punishment of Heaven coming upon him in 
the very moment of blasphemy and infidelity, but because the 
courage and truth of the unfortunate Brenhilda may be brought 
into suspicion, as his slaughter took place when he was alone 
with her and her attendant, and as no one was witness of the 
singular manner in which the old blasphemer met his end. — • 
“ Thou knowest,” she added, addressing herself to Heaven — 
“ thou ! blessed Lady of the Broken Lances, the protectress 
both of Brenhilda and her husband, well knowest, that whatever 
faults may be mine, I am free from the slightest suspicion of 
treachery ; and into thy hands I put my cause, with a perfect 
reliance upon thy wisdom and bounty to bear evidence in my 
favor.” So saying, they returned to the lodge unseen, and 
with pious and submissive prayers the Countess closed that 
eventful evening. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH. 


Will you hear of a Spanish lady, 

How she wooed an Englishman? 

Garments gay, as rich as may be, 

Deck’d with jewels, she had on, 

Of a comely countenance and grace was she, 

And by birth and parentage of high degree. 

Old Ballad. 

We left Alexius Comnenus after he had unloaded his con- 
science in the ears of the Patriarch, and received from him a 
faithful assurance of the pardon and patronage of the national 
Church. He took leave of the dignitary with some exulting 
exclamations, so unexplicitly expressed, however, that it was by 
no means easy to conceive the meaning of what he said. His 
first inquirv, when he reached the Blacquernal, being for his 
daughter, he was directed to the room encrusted with beautiful 
carved marble, from which she herself, and many of her race, 
derived the proud appellation of Porphyrogemta , or born in the 
purple. Her countenance was clouded with anxiety, which, at 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


308 

the sight of her father, broke out into open and uncontrollable 
grief. 

“ Daughter,” said the Emperor, with a harshness little com- 
mon to his manner, and a seriousness which he sternly main- 
tained, instead of sympathizing with his daughter’s affliction, 
“ as you would prevent the silly fool with whom you are con- 
nected, from displaying himself to the public both as an un- 
grateful monster and a traitor, you will not fail to exhort him, 
by due submission, to make his petition for pardon, accom- 
panied with a full confession of his crimes, or, by my sceptre 
and my crown, he shall die the death! Nor will I pardon any 
who rushes upon his doom in an open tone of defiance, under 
such a standard of rebellion as my ungrateful son-in-law has 
hoisted.” 

“ What can you require of me, father ? ” said the Princess. 
“ Can you expect that I am to dip my own hands in the blood 
of this unfortunate man ? or wilt thou seek a revenge yet more 
bloody than that which was exacted by the deities of antiquity, 
upon those criminals who offended against their divine power ? ” 

“Think not so, my daughter !” said the Emperor; “but 
rather believe that thou hast the last opportunity afforded by 
my filial affection, of rescuing, perhaps from death, that silly 
fool thy husband, who has so richly deserved it.” 

“ My father,” said the Princess, “ God knows it is not at 
your risk that I would wish to purchase the life of Nicephorus ; 
but he has been the father of my children, though they are now 
no more, and women cannot forget that such a tie has existed, 
even though it has been broken by fate. Permit me only to 
hope that the unfortunate culprit shall have an opportunity of 
retrieving his errors ; nor shall it, believe me, be my fault, if he 
resumes those practices, treasonable at once and unnatural, by 
which his life is at present endangered.” 

“ Follow, me, then, daughter,” said the Emperor, “ and know, 
that to thee alone I am about to intrust a secret, upon which 
the safety of my life and crown, as well as the pardon of my 
son-in-law’s life, will be found eventually to depend.” 

He then assumed in haste the garment of a slave of the 
Seraglio, and commanded his daughter to arrange her dress in 
a more succinct form, and to take in her hand a lighted lamp. 

“ Whither are we going, my father? ” said Anna Comnena. 

“It matters not,” replied her father, “since my destiny 
calls me, and since thine ordains thee to be my torch-bearer. 
Believe it, and record it, if thou darest, in thy book, that 
Alexius Comnenus does not, without alarm, descend into those 


3°9 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 

awful dungeons which his predecessors built for men, even 
when his intentions are innocent, and free from harm. Be 
silent, and should we meet any inhabitant of these inferior 
regions, speak not a word, nor make any observation upon his 
appearance.” 

Passing through the intricate apartments of the palace, they 
now came to that large hall through which Hereward had passed 
on the first night of his introduction to the place of Anna’s rec- 
itation called the Temple of the Muses. It was constructed, 
as we have said, of black marble, dimly illuminated. At the 
upper end of the apartment was a small altar, on which was 
laid some incense, while over the smoke were suspended, as if 
projecting from the wall, two imitations of human hands and 
arms, which were but imperfectly seen. 

At the bottom of this hall, a small iron door led to a narrow 
and winding staircase, resembling a draw-well in shape and 
size, the steps of which were excessively steep, and which the 
Emperor, after a solemn gesture to his daughter commanding 
her attendance, began to descend with the imperfect light, and 
by the narrow and difficult steps by which those who visited 
the under regions of the Blacquernal seemed to bid adieu to 
the light of day. Door after door they passed in their descent, 
leading, it was probable, to different ranges of dungeons, from 
which was obscurely heard the stifled voice of groans and sighs, 
such as attracted Hereward’s attention on a former occasion. 
The Emperor took no notice of these signs of human misery, 
and three stories or ranges of dungeons had been already 
passed, ere the father and daughter arrived at the lowest storey 
of the building, the base of which was the solid rock, roughly 
carved, upon which were erected the side-walls and arches of 
solid but unpolished marble. 

“ Here,” said Alexius Comnenus, “all hope, all expectation 
takes farewell, at the turning of a hinge or the grating of a 
lock. Yet shall not this be always the case — the dead shall 
revive and resume their right, and the disinherited of these re- 
gions shall again prefer their claim to inhabit the upper world. 
If I cannot entreat Heaven to my assistance, be assured, my 
daughter, that rather than be the poor animal which I have 
stooped to be thought, and even to be painted in thy history, 
I would sooner brave every danger of the multitude which now 
erect themselves betwixt me and safety. Nothing is resolved 
save that I will live and die an Emperor ; and thou, Anna, be 
assured, that if there is power in the beauty or in the talents, 
of which so much has beeh boasted, that power shall be this 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


3 10 

evening exercised to the advantage of thy parent, from whom 
it is derived.” 

“ What is it that you mean, Imperial father ? — Holy Virgin ! 
is this the promise you made me to save the life of the unfor- 
tunate Nicephorus ? ” 

“ And so I will,” said the Emperor ; “ and I am now about 
that action of benevolence. But think not I will once more 
warm in my bosom the household snake which had so nearly 
stung me to death. No, daughter; I have provided for thee a 
fitting husband, in one who is able to maintain and defend the 
rights of the Emperor thy father ; and beware how thou op- 
posest an obstacle to what is my pleasure ! for behold these 
walls of marble, though unpolished, and recollect it is as pos- 
sible to die within the marble as to be born there.” 

The Princess Anna Comnena was frightened at seeing her 
father in a state of mind entirely different from any which she 
had before witnessed. “ O Heaven ! that my mother were 
here ! ” she ejaculated, in the terror of something she hardly 
knew what. 

“ Anna,” said the Emperor, “ your fears and your screams 
are alike in vain. I am one of those, who, on ordinary occa- 
sions, hardly nourish a wish of my own, and account myself 
obliged to those who, like my wife and daughter, take care to 
save me all the trouble of free judgment. But when the vessel 
is among the breakers, and the master is called to the helm, 
believe that no meaner hand shall be permitted to interfere 
with him, nor will the wife and daughter, whom he indulged in 
prosperity, be allowed to thwart his will while he can yet call 
it his own. Thou couldst scarcely fail to understand that I 
was almost prepared to have given thee, as a mark of my sin- 
cerity, to yonder obscure Varangian, without asking question 
of either birth or blood. Thou mayst hear when I next prom- 
ise thee to a three-years’ inhabitant of these vaults, who shall 
be Caesar in Briennius’s stead, if I can move him to accept a 
princess for his bride, and an imperial crown for his inheri- 
tance, in place of a starving dungeon.” 

“ I tremble at your words, father,” said Anna Comnena ; 
“ how canst thou trust a man who has felt thy cruelty ? — How 
canst thou dream that aught can ever in sincerity reconcile 
thee to one whom thou hast deprived of his eyesight ? ” 

“ Care not for that,” said Alexius ; “ he becomes mine, or 
he shall never know what it is to be again his own. — And 
thou, girl, mayst rest assured that, if I will it, thou art next 
day the bride of my present captive, or thou retirest to the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


311 

most severe nunnery, never again to mix with society. Be 
silent, therefore, and await thy doom, as it shall come, and 
hope not that thy utmost endeavors can avert the current of 
thy destiny.” 

As he concluded this singular dialogue, in which he had 
assumed a tone to which his daughter was a stranger, and be- 
fore which she trembled, he passed on through more than one 
strictly fastened door, while his daughter, with a faltering step, 
illuminated him on the obscure road. At length he found ad- 
mittance by another passage into the cell in which Ursel was 
confined, and found him reclining in hopeless misery — all those 
expectations having faded from his heart which the Count of 
Paris had by his indomitable gallantry for a time excited. He 
turned his sightless eyes towards the place where he heard the 
moving of bolts and the approach of steps.” 

“Anew feature,” he said, “ in my imprisonment — a man 
comes with a heavy and determined step, and a woman or a 
child with one that scarcely presses the floor ! — Is it my death 
that you bring ? — Believe me, that I have lived long enough in 
these dungeons to bid my doom welcome.” 

“ It is not thy death, noble Ursel,” said the Emperor, in a 
voice somewhat disguised. “ Life, liberty, whatever the world 
has to give, is placed by the Emperor Alexius at the feet of his 
noble enemy, and he trusts that many years of happiness and 
power, together with the command of a large share of the 
empire, will soon obliterate the recollection of the dungeons of 
the Blacquernal.” 

“ It cannot be,” said Ursel, with a sigh. “ He upon whose 
eyes the sun has set even at middle day, can have nothing left 
to hope from the most advantageous change of circumstances.” 

“ You are not entirely assured of that,” said the Emperor ; 
“ allow us to convince you that what is intended towards you 
is truly favorable and liberal, and I hope you will be rewarded 
by finding that there is more possibility of amendment in your 
case, than your first apprehensions are willing to receive. 
Make an effort, and try whether your eyes are not sensible of 
the light of the lamp.” 

“ Do with me,” said Ursel, “ according to your pleasure ; I 
have neither strength to remonstrate, nor the force of mind 
equal to make me set your cruelty at defiance. Of something 
like light I am sensible ; but whether it is reality or illusion, I 
cannot determine. If you are come to deliver me from this 
living sepulchre, I pray God to requite you ; and if, under such 
deceitful pretence, you mean to take my life, I can only com- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


3 12 

mend my soul to Heaven, and the vengeance due to my death 
to Him who can behold the darkest places in which injustice 
can shroud itself.” 

So saying, and the revulsion of his spirits rendering him 
unable to give almost any other signs of existence, Ursel sank 
back upon his seat of captivity, and spoke not another word 
during the time that Alexius disembarrassed him of those chains 
which had so long hung about him, that they almost seemed 
to make a part of his person. 

“ This is an affair in which thy aid can scarce be sufficient, 
Anna,” said the Emperor ; “ it would have been well if you 
and I could have borne him into the open air by our joint 
strength, for there is little wisdom in showing the secrets of 
this prison-house to those to whom they are not yet known ; 
nevertheless, go, my child, and at a short distance from the 
head of the staircase which we descended, thou wilt find Ed- 
ward, the bold and trusty Varangian, who, on your commu- 
nicating to him my orders, will come hither and render his 
assistance ; and see that you send also the experienced leech, 
Douban.” 

Terrified, half-stifled, and half struck with horror, the lady 
yet felt a degree of relief from the somewhat milder tone in 
which her father addressed her. With tottering steps, yet in 
some measure encouraged by the tenor of her instructions, she 
ascended the staircase which yawned upon these infernal dun- 
geons. As she approached the top, a large and strong figure 
threw its broad shadow between the lamp and the opening of 
the hall. Frightened nearly to death at the thoughts of becom- 
ing the wife of a squalid wretch like Ursel, a moment of weak- 
ness seized upon the Princess’s mind, and, when she consid- 
ered the melancholy option which her father had placed before 
her, she could not but think that the handsome and gallant 
Varangian, who had already rescued the royal family from such 
imminent danger, was a fitter person with whom to unite her- 
self, if she must needs make a second choice, than the singular 
and disgusting being whom her father’s policy had raked from 
the bottom of the Blacquernal dungeons. 

I will not say of poor Anna Comnena, who was a timid but 
not an unfeeling woman, that she would have embraced such a 
proposal, had not the life of her present husband Nicephorus 
Briennius been in extreme danger ; and it was obviously the 
determination of the Emperor, that if he spared him, it should 
be on the sole condition of unloosing his daughter’s hand, and 
binding her to some one of better faith, and possessed of a 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


313 

greater desire to prove an affectionate son-in-law. Neither did 
the plan of adopting the Varangian as a second husband enter 
decidedly into the mind of the Princess. The present was a 
moment of danger, in which her rescue to be successful must 
be sudden, and perhaps, if once achieved, the lady might have 
had an opportunity of freeing herself both from Ursel and the 
Varangian, without disjoining either of them from her father’s 
assistance, or of herself losing it. At any rate, the surest 
means of safety were to secure, if possible, the young soldier, 
whose features and appearance were of a kind which rendered 
the task no way disagreeable to a beautiful woman. The 
schemes of conquest are so natural to the fair sex, and the 
whole idea passed so quickly through Anna Comnena’s mind, 
that having first entered while the soldier’s shadow was inter- 
posed between her and the lamp, it had fully occupied her 
quick imagination, when, with deep reverence and great sur- 
prise at her sudden appearance on the ladder of Acheron, the 
Varangian, advancing, knelt down, and lent his arms to the 
assistance of the fair lady, in order to help her out of the 
dreary staircase. 

“ Dearest Hereward,” said the lady, with a degree of inti- 
macy which seemed unusual, “ how much do I rejoice, in this 
dreadful night, to have fallen under your protection ! I have 
been in places which the spirit of hell appears to have contrived 
for the human race.” The alarm of the Princess, the familiarity 
of a beautiful woman, who, while in mortal fear, seeks refuge, 
like a frightened dove, in the bosom of the strong and the brave, 
must be the excuse of Anna Comnena for the tender epithet 
with which she greeted Hereward ; nor, if he had chosen to 
answer in the same tone, which, faithful as he was, might have 
proved the case if the meeting had chanced before he saw 
Bertha, would the daughter of Alexius have been, to say the 
truth, irreconcilably offended. Exhausted as she was, she suf- 
fered herself to repose upon the broad breast and shoulder of the 
Anglo-Saxon ; nor did she make an attempt to recover herself, 
although the decorum of her sex and station seemed to recom- 
mend such an exertion. Hereward was obliged himself to ask 
her, with the unimpassioned and reverential demeanor of a 
private soldier to a Princess, whether he ought to summon her 
female attendants ? to which she faintly uttered a negative. 

No, no,” said she, “ I have a duty to execute for my father, 
and I must not summon eye-witnesses: — he knows me to be in 
safety, Hereward, since he knows I am with thee ; and if I am 
a burden to you in my present state of weakness, I shall soon 
recover, if you will set me down upon the marble steps.” 


314 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ Heaven forbid, lady,” said Hereward, “ that I were thus 
neglectful of your Highness’s gracious health ! I see your two 
young ladies, Astarte and Violante, are in quest of you — Per- 
mit me to summon them hither, and I will keep watch upon 
you if you are unable to retire to your chamber, where, me- 
thinks, the present disorder of your nerves will be most properly 
treated.” 

“ Do as thou wilt, barbarian,” said the Princess, rallying 
herself, with a certain degree of pique, arising perhaps from 
her not thinking more dramatis persona were appropriate to the 
scene, than the two who were already upon the stage. Then, 
as if for the first time, appearing to recollect the message with 
which he had been commissioned, she exhorted the Varangian 
to repair instantly to her father. 

On such occasions, the slightest circumstances have their 
effect on the actors. The Anglo-Saxon was sensible that the Prin- 
cess was somewhat offended, though whether she was so on ac- 
count of her being actually in Hereward’s arms, or whether the 
cause of her anger was the being nearly discovered there by the 
two young maidens, the sentinel did not presume to guess, but 
departed for the gloomy vaults to join Alexius, with the never- 
failing double-edged axe, the bane of many a Turk, glittering 
upon his shoulder. 

Astarte and her companion had been despatched by the 
Empress Irene in search of Anna Comnena, through those 
apartments of the palace which she was wont to inhabit. The 
daughter of Alexius could nowhere be found, although the busi- 
ness on which they were seeking her was described by the Em- 
press as of the most pressing nature. Nothing, however, in a 
palace, passes altogether unespied, so that the Empress’s mes- 
sengers at length received information that their mistress and 
the Emperor had been seen to descend that gloomy access to 
the dungeons which, by allusion to the classical infernal regions, 
was termed the Pit of Acheron. They came thither accord- 
ingly, and we have related the consequence. Hereward 
thought it necessary to say that her Imperial Highness had 
swooned upon being suddenly brought into the upper air. The 
Princess, on the other part, briskly shook off her juvenile at- 
tendants, and declared herself ready to proceed to the chamber 
of her mother. The obeisance which she made Hereward at 
parting had something in it of haughtiness, yet evidently quali- 
fied by a look of friendship and regard. As she passed an 
apartment in which some of the royal slaves were in waiting, 
she addressed to one of them, an old respectable man of medi- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


315 

cal skill, a private and hurried order, desiring him to go to the 
assistance of her father, whom he would find at the bottom of 
the staircase called the Pit of Acheron, and to take his scimi- 
tar along with him. To hear, as usual, was to obey, and Dou- 
ban, for that was his name, only replied by that significant sign 
which indicates immediate acquiescence. In the mean time, 
Anna Comnena herself hastened onward to her mother’s apart- 
ments, in which she found the Empress alone. 

“ Go hence maidens,” said Irene, “ and do not let any one 
have access to these apartments, even if the Emperor himself 
should command it. Shut the door,” she said, “ Anna Com- 
nena ; and if the jealousy of the stronger sex do not allow us 
the masculine privileges of bolts and bars, to secure the in- 
sides of our apartments, let us avail ourselves, as quickly as may 
be, of such opportunities as are permitted us ; and remember, 
Princess, that however implicit your duty to your father, it is 
yet more so to me, who am of the same sex with thyself, and 
may truly call thee, even according to the letter, blood of my 
blood, and bone of my bone. Be assured thy father knows not, 
at this moment, the feelings of a woman. Neither he nor any 
man alive can justly conceive the pangs of the heart which 
beats under a woman’s robe. These men, Anna, would tear 
asunder without scruple the tenderest ties of affection, the 
whole structure of domestic felicity, in which lie a woman’s 
cares, her joy, her pain, her love, and her despair. Trust, 
therefore, to me, my daughter ! and believe me, I will at once 
save thy father’s crown and thy happiness. The conduct of 
thy husband has been wrong, most cruelly wrong ; but, Anna, 
he is a man — and in calling him such, I lay to his charge, as 
natural frailties, thoughtless treachery, wanton infidelity, every 
species of folly and inconsistency, to which his race is subject. 
You ought not, therefore, to think of his faults, unless it be to 
forgive them.” 

“ Madam,” said Anna Comnena, “forgive me if I remind 
you that you recommend to a princess, born in the purple itself, 
a line of conduct which would hardly become the female who 
carries the pitcher for the needful supply of water to the village 
well. All who are around me have been taught to pay me the 
obeisance due to my birth, and while this Nicephorus Briennius 
crept on his knees to your daughter’s hand, which you extended 
towards him, he was rather receiving the yoke of a -mistress 
than accepting a household alliance with a wife. He has in- 
curred his doom, without a touch even of that temptation which 
may be pled by lesser culprits in his condition ; and if it is the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


will of my father that he should die, or suffer banishment, or 
imprisonment, for the crime he has committed, it is not the 
business of Anna Comnena to interfere, she being the most in- 
jured among the imperial family, who have in so many, and 
such gross respects, the right to complain of his falsehood.” 

“ Daughter,” replied the Empress, “ so far I agree with you, 
that the treason of Nicephorus towards your father and myself 
has been in a great degree unpardonable ; nor do I easily see 
on what footing, save that of generosity, his life could be saved. 
But still you are yourself in different circumstance from me, 
and may, as an affectionate and fond wife, compare the inti- 
macies of your former habits with the bloody change which is 
so soon to be the consequence and the conclusion of his crimes. 
He is possessed of that person and of those features which 
women most readily recall to their memory, whether alive or 
dead. Think what it will cost you to recollect that the rugged 
executioner received his last salute, — that the shapely neck had 
no better repose than the rough block, — that the tongue, the 
sound of which you used to prefer to the choicest instruments 
of music, is silent in the dust ! ” 

Anna, who was not insensible to the personal graces of her 
husband, was much affected by this forcible appeal. “ Why 
distress me thus, mother ? ” she replied in a weeping accent. 
“ Did I not feel as acutely as you would have me to do, this 
moment, however awful, would be easily borne. I had but to 
think of him as he is, to contrast his personal qualities with 
those of the mind, by which they are more than overbalanced, 
and resign myself to his deserved fate with unresisting submis- 
sion to my father’s will.” 

“ And that,” said the Empress, “ would be to bind thee, by 
his sole fiat, to some obscure wretch, whose habits of plotting 
and intriguing had, by some miserable chance, given him the op- 
portunity of becoming of importance to the Emperor, and who 
is, therefore, to be rewarded by the hand of Anna Comnena.” 

“ Do not think so meanly of me, madam,” said the Princess 
— “ I know, as well as ever Grecian maiden did, how I should 
free myself from dishonor ; and, you may trust me, you shall 
never blush for your daughter.” 

“ Tell me not that,” said the Empress, “ since I shall blush 
alike for the relentless cruelty which gives up a once beloved 
husband to an ignominious death, and for the passion, for 
which I want a name, which would replace him by an obscure 
barbarian from the extremity of Thule, or some wretch escaped 
from the Blacquernal dungeons.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


3*7 

The Princess was astonished to perceive that her mother 
was acquainted with the purposes, even the most private, 
which her father had formed for his governance during this 
emergency. She was ignorant that Alexius and his royal con- 
sort, in other respects living together with a decency ever ex- 
emplary in people of their rank, had sometimes, on interesting 
occasions, family debates, in which the husband, provoked by 
the seeming unbelief of his partner, was tempted to let her 
guess more of his real purposes than he would have coolly im- 
parted of his own calm choice. 

The Princess was affected at the anticipation of the death 
of her husband, nor could this have been reasonably supposed 
to be otherwise ; but she was still more hurt and affronted by 
her mother taking it for granted that she designed upon the 
instant to replace the Caesar by an uncertain, and a£ all events 
an unworthy successor. Whatever considerations had oper- 
ated to make Hereward her choice, their effect was lost when 
the match was placed in this odious and degrading point of 
view ; besides which is to be remembered, that women almost 
instinctively deny their first thoughts in favor of a suitor, and 
seldom willingly reveal them, unless time and circumstance 
concur to favor them. She called Heaven therefore passion- 
ately to witness, while she repelled the charge. 

“ Bear witness,” she said, “ Our Lady, Queen of Heaven ! 
Bear witness, saints and martyrs all, ye blessed ones, who are, 
more than ourselves, the guardians of our mental purity ! that 
I know no passion which I dare not avow, and that if Ni- 
cephorus’s life depended on my entreaty to God and men, all 
his injurious acts towards me disregarded and despised, it 
should be as long as Heaven gave to those servants whom 
it snatched from the earth without suffering the pangs of 
mortality ! ” 

“ You have sworn boldly,” said the Empress. “ See, Anna 
Comnena, that you keep your word, for believe me it will be 
tried.” 

“ What will be tried, mother ? ” said the Princess ; “ or 
what have I to do to pronounce the doom of the Caesar, who 
is not subject to my power ? ” 

“ I will show you,” said the Empress, gravely ; and, lead- 
ing her towards a sort of wardrobe, which formed a closet in 
the wall, she withdrew a curtain which hung before it, and 
placed before her her unfortunate husband, Nicephorus Brien- 
nius, half-attired, with his sword drawn in his hand. Looking 
upon him as an enemy, and conscious of some schemes with 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


318 

respect to him which had passed through her mind in the 
course of these troubles, the Princess screamed faintly, upon 
perceiving him so near her with a weapon in his hand. 

“Be more composed,” said the Empress, “ or this wretched 
man, if discovered, falls no less a victim to thy idle fears than 
to thy baneful revenge.” 

Nicephorus at this speech seemed to have adopted his cue, 
for, dropping the point of his sword, and falling on his knees 
before the Princess, he clasped his hands to entreat for mercy. 

“What hast thou to ask from me?” said his wife, natu- 
rally assured, by her husband’s prostration, that the stronger 
force was upon her own side — “ what hast thou to ask from 
me, that outraged gratitude, betrayed affection, the most 
solemn vows violated, and the fondest ties of nature tom 
asunder like the spider’s broken web, will permit thee to put 
in words for very shame ? ” 

“ Do not suppose, Anna,” replied the suppliant, “ that I 
am at this eventful period of my life to play the hypocrite, for 
the purpose of saving the wretched remnant of a dishonored 
existence. I am but desirous to part in charity with thee, to 
make my peace with Heaven, and to nourish the last hope of 
making my way, though burdened with many crimes, to those 
regions in which alone I can find thy beauty, thy talents, 
equalled at least, if not excelled.” 

“You hear him, daughter? ” said Irene ; “ his boon is for 
forgiveness alone ; thy condition is the more godlike, since 
thou mayst unite the safety of his life with the pardon of his 
offences.” 

“Thou art deceived, mother,” answered Anna. “It is not 
mine to pardon his guilt, far less to remit his punishment. 
You have taught me to think of myself as future ages shall 
know me ; what will they say of me, those future ages, when 
I am described as the unfeeling daughter, who pardoned the 
intended assassin of her father, because she saw in him her 
own unfaithful husband ? ” 

“ See there,” said the Caesar, “ is not that, most serene 
Empress, the very point of despair ? and have I not in vain 
offered my life-blood to wipe out the stain of parricide and in- 
gratitude ? Have I not also vindicated myself from the most 
unpardonable part of the accusation, which charged me with 
attempting the murder of the godlike Emperor ? Have I not 
sworn by all that is sacred to man, that my purpose went no 
farther than to sequestrate Alexius for a little time from the 
fatigues of empire, and place him where he should quietly 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


3*9 


enjoy ease and tranquillity ? while, at the same time, his em- 
pire should be as implicitly regulated by himself, his sacred 
pleasure being transmitted through me, as in any respect, or 
at any period, it had ever been ? ” 

“ Erring man ! ” said the Princess, “ hast thou approached 
so near to the footstool of Alexius Comnenus, and durst thou 
form so false an estimate of him, as to conceive it possible 
that he would consent to be a mere puppet by whose inter- 
vention you might have brought his empire to submission? 
Know that the blood of Comnenus is not so poor ; my father 
would have resisted the treason in arms ; and by the death of 
thy benefactor only couldst thou have gratified the suggestions 
of thy criminal ambition.” 

“ Be such your belief,” said the Caesar ; “ I have said 
enough for a life which is not and ought not to be dear to me. 
Call your guards, and let them take the life of the unfortunate 
Briennius, since it has become hateful to his once beloved 
Anna Comnena. Be not afraid that any resistance of mine 
shall render the scene of my apprehension dubious or fatal. 
Nicephorus Briennius is Caesar no longer, and he thus throws 
at the feet of his Princess and spouse the only poor means 
which he has of resisting the just doom which is therefore at 
her pleasure to pass.” 

He cast his sword before the feet of the Princess, while 
Irene exclaimed, weeping, or seeming to weep bitterly, “ I 
have indeed read of such scenes ! but could I ever have 
thought that my own daughter would have been the principal 
actress in one of them — could I ever have thought that her 
mind, admired by every one as a palace for the occupation of 
Apollo and the Muses, should not have had room enough for 
the humbler, but more amiable virtue of feminine charity and 
compassion, which builds itself a nest in the bosom of the 
lowest village girl ? Do thy gifts, accomplishments, and tal- 
ents, spread hardness as well as polish over thy heart ? If so, 
a hundred times better renounce them all, and retain in their 
stead those gentle and domestic virtues, which are the first 
honors of the female heart. A woman who is pitiless is a 
worse monster than one who is unsexed by any other passion.” 

“ What would you have me do ? ” said Anna. “ You, 
mother, ought to know better than I, that the life of my father 
is hardly consistent with the existence of this bold and cruel 
man. O, I am sure he still meditates his purpose of conspir- 
acy ! He that could deceive a woman in the manner he has 
done me, will not relinquish a plan which is founded upon the 
death of his benefactor.” 


320 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ You do me injustice, Anna,” said Briennius, starting up, 
and imprinting a kiss upon her lips ere she was aware. “ By 
this caress, the last that will pass between us, I swear, that if 
in my life I have yielded to folly, I have, notwithstanding, 
never been guilty of a treason of the heart towards a woman 
as superior to the rest of the female world in talents and ac- 
complishments, as in personal beauty.” 

The Princess, much softened, shook her head, as she re- 
plied — “Ah, Nicephorus ! — such were once your words ! such, 
perhaps, were then your thoughts ! But who, or what, sha*l 
now warrant to me the veracity of either ? ” 

“ Those very accomplishments, and that very beauty it- 
self,” replied Nicephorus. 

“And if more is wanting,” said Irene, “ thy mother will 
enter her security for him. Deem her not an insufficient 
pledge in this affair ; she is thy mother, and the wife of Alex- 
ius Comnenus, interested beyond all human beings in the 
growth and increase of the power and dignity of her husband 
and her child ; and one who sees on this ocoasion an oppor- 
tunity for exercising generosity, for soldering up the breaches 
of the Imperial House, and reconstructing the frame of gov- 
ernment upon a basis, which, if there be faith and gratitude 
in man, shall never be again exposed to hazard.” 

“ To the reality of that faith and gratitude, then,” said the 
Princess, “ we must trust implicitly, as it is your will, mother ; 
although even my own knowledge of the subject, both through 
study and experience of the world, has called me to observe 
the rashness of such confidence. But although we two may 
forgive Nicephorus’s errors, the Emperor is still the person to 
whom the final reference must be had, both as to pardon and 
favor.” 

“ Fear not Alexius,” answered her mother ; “ he will speak 
determinedly and decidedly ; but if he acts not in the very 
moment of forming the resolution, it is no more to be relied on 
than an icicle in time of thaw. Do thou apprise me, if thou 
canst, what the Emperor is at present doing, and take my 
word I will find means to bring him round to our opinion.” 

“ Must I then betray secrets which my father has intrusted 
to me ? ” said the Princess ; “ and to one who has so lately held 
the character of his avowed enemy ?” 

“ Call it not betray,” said Irene, “ since it is written thou 
shalt betray no one, least of all thy father, and the father of 
the empire. Yet again it is written, by the holy Luke, that 
men shall be betrayed, both by parents and brethren, and 
kinsfolk and friends, and therefore surely also by daughters; 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


321 

by which I only mean thou shalt discover to us thy father’s 
secrets, so far as may enable us to save the life of thy husband. 
The necessity of the case excuses whatever may be otherwise 
considered as irregular.” 

“ Be it so then, mother. Having yielded my consent per- 
haps too easily, to snatch this malefactor from my father’s 
justice, I am sensible I must secure his safety by such means 
as are in my power. I left my father at the bottom of those 
stairs, called the Pit of Acheron, in the cell of a blind man, to 
whom he gave the name of Ursel.” 

“ Holy Mary ! ” exclaimed the Empress, “ thou hast named 
a name which has been long unspoken in the open air.” 

“ Has the Emperor’s sense of his danger from the living,” 
said the Caesar, “ induced him to invoke the dead ? — for Ursel 
has been no living man for the space of three years.” 

“ It matters not,” said Anna Comnena ; I tell you true. 
My father even now held conference with a miserable-looking 
prisoner, whom he so named.” 

“ It is a danger the more,” said the Caesar; “he cannot 
have forgotten the zeal with which I embraced the cause of the 
present Emperor against his own ; and so soon as he is at 
liberty, he will study to avenge it. For this we must endeavor 
to make some provision, though it increases our difficulties. — 
Sit down then, my gentle, my beneficent mother ; and thou, 
my wife, who hast preferred thy love for an unworthy husband 
to the suggestions of jealous passion and of headlong revenge, 
sit down, and let us see in what manner it may be in our 
power, consistently with your duty to the Emperor, to bring our 
broken vessel securely into port.” 

He employed much natural grace of manner in handing the 
mother and daughter to their seats ; and, taking his place con- 
fidentially between them, all were soon engaged in concerting 
what measures should be taken for the morrow, not forgetting 
such as should at once have the effect of preserving the Cassar’s 
life, and at the same time of securing the Grecian empire 
against the conspiracy of which he had been the chief in- 
stigator. Briennius ventured to hint, that perhaps the best 
way would be to suffer the conspiracy to proceed as originally 
intended, pledging his own faith that the rights of Alexius 
should be held inviolate during the struggle ; but his influence 
over the Empress and her daughter did not extend to obtain- 
ing so great a trust. They plainly protested against permitting 
him to leave the palace, or taking the least share in the confu- 
sion which to-morrow was certain to witness. 


322 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ You forget, noble ladies,” said the Caesar, “ that my honor 
^s concerned in meeting the Count of Paris.” 

“ Pshaw ! tell me not of your honor, Briennius,” said Anna 
Comnena ; “ do I not well know, that although the honor of 
the western knights be a species of Moloch, a flesh-devouring, 
blood-quaffing demon, yet that which is the god of idolatry to 
the eastern warriors, though equally loud and noisy in the hall, 
is far less implacable in the field? Believe not that I have 
forgiven great injuries and insults, in order to take such false 
coin as honor in payment ; your ingenuity is but poor, if you 
cannot devise some excuse which will satisfy the Greeks ; and 
in good sooth, Briennius, to this battle you go not, whether for 
your good or for your ill. Believe not that I will consent to 
your meeting either Count or Countess, whether in warlike 
combat or amorous parley. So you may at a word count upon 
remaining prisoner here until the hour appointed for such gross 
folly be past and over.” 

The Caesar, perhaps, was not in his heart angry that his 
wife’s pleasure was so bluntly and resolutely expressed against 
the intended combat. “ If,” said he, “ you are determined to 
take my honor into your own keeping, I am here for the present 
your prisoner, nor have I the means of interfering with your 
pleasure. When once at liberty, the free exercise of my valor 
and my lance is once more my own.” 

“ Be it so, Sir Paladin,” said the Princess, very composedly. 
“ I have good hope that neither of them will involve you with 
any of yon dare-devils of Paris, whether male or female, and 
that we will regulate the pitch to which your courage soars, by 
the estimation of Greek philosophy, and the judgment of our 
blessed Lady of Mercy, not her of the Broken Lances.” 

At this moment an authoritative knock at the door alarmed 
the consultation of the Caesar and the ladies. 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

Physician . — Be comforted, good madam ; the great rage. 

You see, is cured in him : and yet it is danger 
To make him even o’er the time he has lost. 

Desire him to go in : trouble him no more, 

Till further settling. 

King Lsar. 

We left the Emperor Alexius Comnenus at the bottom of a 
Subterranean vault, with a lamp expiring, and having charge of 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


323 

a prisoner, who seemed himself nearly reduced to the same 
extremity. For the first two or three moments, he listened 
after his daughter’s retiring footsteps. He grew impatient, and 
began to long for her return before it was possible she could 
have traversed the path betwixt him and the summit of these 
gloomy stairs. A minute or two he endured with patience the 
absence of the assistance which he had sent her to summon ; 
but strange suspicions began to cross his imagination. Could 
it be possible ? Had she changed her purpose on account of 
the hard words which he had used towards her ? Had she re- 
solved to leave her father to his fate in his hour of utmost 
need ? and was he to rely no longer upon the assistance which 
he had implored her to send ? 

The short time which the Princess trifled away in a sort of 
gallantry with the Varangian Hereward was magnified tenfold 
by the impatience of the Emperor, who began to think that she 
was gone to fetch the accomplices of the Caesar to assault their 
prince in his defenceless condition, and carry into effect their 
half-disconcerted conspiracy. 

After a considerable time, filled up with this feeling of 
agonizing uncertainty, he began at length, more composedly, 
to recollect the little chance there was that the Princess would, 
even for her own sake, resentful as she was in the highest de- 
gree of her husband’s ill behavior, join her resources to his, to 
the destruction of one who had so generally showed himself 
an indulgent and affectionate father. When he had adopted 
this better mood, a step was heard upon the staircase, and after 
a long and unequal descent, Hereward, in his heavy armor, at 
length coolly arrived at the bottom of the steps. Behind him, 
panting and trembling, partly with cold and partly with terror, 
came Douban, the slave well skilled in medicine. 

“ Welcome, good Edward! Welcome, Douban ! ” he said, 
“ whose medical skill is sufficiently able to counterbalance the 
weight of years which hang upon him.” 

“ Your Highness is gracious,” said Douban — but what he 
would have farther said was cut off by a violent fit of coughing, 
the consequence of his age, of his feeble habit, of the damps of 
the dungeon, and the rugged exercise of descending the long 
and difficult staircase, 

“ Thou art unaccustomed to visit thy patients in so rough 
an abode,” said Alexius ; “ and, nevertheless, to the damps of 
these dreary regions state necessity obliges us to confine many, 
who are no less our beloved subjects in reality than they are 
in title.” 


3 2 4 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


The medical man continued his cough, perhaps as an 
apology for not giving that answer of assent, with which his 
conscience did not easily permit him to reply to an observation, 
which, though stated by one who should know the fact, seemed 
not to be in itself altogether likely. 

“Yes, my Douban,” said the Emperor, “ in this strong case 
of steel and adamant have we found it necessary to enclose the 
redoubted Ursel, whose fame is spread through the whole 
world, both for military skill, political wisdom, personal brav- 
ery, and other noble gifts, which we have been obliged to ob- 
scure for a time, in order that we might, at the fittest conjunc- 
ture, which is now arrived, restore them to the world in their 
full lustre. Feel his pulse, therefore, Douban — consider him 
as one who hath suffered severe confinement, with all its pri- 
vations, and is about to be suddenly restored to the full enjoy- 
ment of life, and whatever renders life valuable.” 

“I will do my best,” said Douban; “but your Majesty 
must consider, that we work upon a frail and exhausted sub- 
ject, whose health seems already well-nigh gone, and may 
perhaps vanish in an instant — like this pale and trembling 
light, whose precarious condition the life-breath of this un- 
fortunate patient seems closely to resemble.” 

“ Desire, therefore, good Douban, one or two of the mutes 
who serve in the interior, and who have repeatedly been thy 
assistants in such cases — or stay— Edward, thy motions will be 
more speedy; do thou go for the mutes — make them bring 
some kind of litter to transport the patient ; and, Douban, do 
thou superintend the whole. Transport him instantly to a 
suitable apartment, only take care that it be secret, and let 
him enjoy the comforts of the bath, and whatever else may 
tend to restore his feeble animation — keeping in mind, that he 
must, if possible, appear to-morrow in the field.” 

“That will be hard,” said Douban, “after having been, it 
would appear, subjected to such fare and such usage as his 
fluctuating pulse intimates but too plainly.” 

“’Twas a mistake of the dungeon-keeper, the inhuman 
villain, who should not go without his reward,” continued the 
Emperor, “had not Heaven already bestowed it by the strange 
means of a sylvan man, or native of the woods, who yesterday 
put to death the jailer who meditated the death of his prisoner 
— Yes, my dear Douban, a private sentinel of our guards 
called the Immortal, had well-nigh annihilated this flower of 
our trust, whom for a time we were compelled to immure in 
secret. Then, indeed, a rude hammer had dashed to pieces an 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


325 

unparalleled brilliant, but the fates have arrested such a mis- 
fortune.” 

The assistance having arrived, the physician, who seemed 
more accustomed to act than to speak, directed a bath to be 
prepared with medicated herbs, and gave it as his opinion, 
that the patient should not be disturbed till to-morrow’s sun 
was high in the heavens. Ursel accordingly was assisted to 
the bath, which was employed according to the directions of 
the physician ; but without affording any material symptoms 
of recovery. From thence he was transferred to a cheerful 
bedchamber, opening by an ample window to one of the ter- 
races of the palace, which commanded an extensive prospect. 
These operations were performed upon a frame so ^extremely 
stupified by previous suffering, so dead to the usual sensations 
of existence, that it was not till the sensibility should be grad- 
ually restored by friction of the stiffened limbs, and other 
means, that the leech hoped the mists of the intellect should at 
length begin to clear away. 

Douban readily undertook to obey the commands of the 
Emperor, and remained by the bed of the patient until the 
dawn of morning, ready to support nature as far as the skill of 
leechcraft admitted. 

From the mutes, much more accustomed to be the execu- 
tioners of the Emperor’s displeasure than of his humanity, 
Douban selected one man of milder mood, and by Alexius’s 
order, made him understand, that the task in which he was 
engaged was to be kept most strictly secret, while the hardened 
slave was astonished to find that the attentions paid to the sick 
were to be rendered with yet more mystery than the bloody 
offices of death and torture. 

The passive patient received the various acts of attention 
which were rendered to him in silence ; and if not totally with- 
out consciousness, at least without a distinct comprehension of 
their object. After the soothing operation of the bath, and the 
voluptuous exchange of the rude and musty pile of straw, on 
which he had stretched himself for years, for a couch of the 
softest down, Ursel was presented with a sedative draught, 
slightly tinctured with an opiate. The balmy restorer of nature 
came thus invoked, and the captive sunk into a delicious 
slumber long unknown to him, and which seemed to occupy 
equally his mental faculties and his bodily frame, while the 
features were released from their rigid tenor, and the posture of 
the limbs, no longer disturbed by fits of cramp, and sudden and 
agonizing twists and throes, seemed changed for a placid state 
of the most perfect ease and tranquillity. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


326 

The morn was already coloring the horizen, and the fresh* 
ness of the breeze of dawn had insinuated itself into the lofty 
halls of the palace of the Blacquernal, when a gentle tap at the 
door of the chamber awakened Douban, who, undisturbed from 
the calm state of his patient, had indulged himself in a brief 
repose. The door opened, and a figure appeared, disguised in 
the robes worn by an officer of the palace, and concealed, be- 
neath an artificial beard of great size, and of a white color, the 
features of the Emperor himself. “Douban,” said Alexius, 
“ how fares it with thy patient, whose safety is this day of such 
consequence to the Grecian state ? ” 

“ Well, my lord,” replied the physician, “ excellently well ; 
and if he is not now disturbed, I will wager whatever skill I 
possess, that nature, assisted by the art of the physician, will 
triumph over the damps and the unwholesome air of the 
impure dungeon. Only be prudent, my lord, and let not an 
untimely haste bring this Ursel forward into the contest ere he 
has arranged the disturbed current of his ideas, and recovered, 
in some degree, the spring of his mind, and the powers of his 
body.” 

“ I will rule my impatience,” said the Emperor, “ or rather, 
Douban, I will be ruled by thee. Thinkest thou he is 
awake ? ” 

“ I am inclined to think so,” said the leech, “ but he opens 
not his eyes, and seems to me as if he absolutety resisted the 
natural impulse to rouse himself and look around him.” 

“ Speak to him,” said the Emperor, “ and let us know what 
is passing in his mind.” 

“ It is at some risk,” replied the physician, “but you shall 
be obeyed. — Ursel,” he said, approaching the bed of his blind 
patient, and then, in a louder tone, he repeated again, “ Ursel ! 
Ursel ! ” 

“ Peace — Hush ! ” muttered the patient ; “ disturb not the 
blest in their ecstasy — nor again recall the most miserable of 
mortals to finish the draught of bitterness which his fate had 
compelled him to commence.” 

“Again, again,” said the Emperor, aside to Douban ; “try 
him yet again ; it is of importance for me to know in what 
degree he possesses his senses, or in what measure they have 
disappeared from him.” 

“ I would not, however,” said the physician, “ be the rash 
and guilty person, who, by an ill-timed urgency, should produce 
a total alienation of mind, and plunge him back either into 
absolute lunacy, or produce a stupor, in which he might remain 
fQi a long period.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


327 


tc Surely not,” replied the Emperor : “ my commands are those 
of one Christian to another, nor do I wish them farther obeyed 
than as they are consistent with the laws of God and man.” 

He paused for a moment after this declaration, and yet but 
few minutes had elapsed ere he again urged the leech to pursue 
the interrogation of his patient. “ If you hold me not com- 
petent,” said Douban, somewhat vain of the trust necessaiily 
reposed in him, “ to judge of the treatment of my patient, your 
Imperial Highness must take the risk and the trouble upon 
yourself.” 

“ Marry, I shall,” said the Emperor, “ for the scruples of 
leeches are not to be indulged, when the fate of kingdoms and 
the lives of monarchs are placed against them in the scales. — 
Rouse thee, my noble Ursel ! hear a voice, with which thy ears 
were once well acquainted, welcome thee back to glory and 
command ! Look around thee, and see how the world smiles 
to welcome thee back from imprisonment to empire ! ” 

“Cunning fiend!” said Ursel, “who usest the most wily 
baits in order to augment the misery of the wretched ! Know, 
tempter, that I am conscious of the whole trick of the soothing 
images of last night— thy baths— thy beds— and thy bowers of 
bliss.— But sooner shalt thou be able to bring a smile upon the 
cheek of St. Anthony the Eremite, than induce me to curl 
mine after the fashion of earthly voluptuaries.” 

“ Try it, foolish man,” insisted the Emperor, “ and trust to 
the evidence of thy senses for the reality of the pleasures by 
which thou art now surrounded ; or, if thou art obstinate in 
thy lack of faith, tarry as thou art for a single moment, and I 
will bring with me a being so unparalleled in her loveliness, 
that a single glance of her were worth the restoration of thine 
eyes, were it only to look upon her for a moment. So saying 
he left the apartment. 

“Traitor,” said Ursel, “and deceiver of old, bring no one 
hither ! and strive not, by shadowy and ideal forms of beauty, 
to increase the delusion that gilds my prison-house for a 
moment, in order, doubtless, to destroy totally the spark of 
reason, then exchange this earthly hell for a dungeon in the 

infernal regions themselves.” . . 

“ His mind is somewhat shattered,” mused the physician, 
“ which is often the consequence of a long and solitary con- 
finement. I marvel much,” was his farther thought, “ if the 
Emperor can shape out any rational service which this man 
can render him, and being so long immured in so hornble a 
dungeon. Thou thinkest, then,” continued he, addressing the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


32S 

patient, “ that the seeming release of last night, with its baths 
and refreshments, was only a delusive dream, without any 
reality ? ” 

“ Ay — what else ? ” answered Ursel. 

“ And that the arousing thyself, as we desired thee to do, 
would be but resigning to a vain temptation, in order to wake 
to more unhappiness than formerly ? ” 

“ Even so,” returned the patient. 

“What, then, are thy thoughts of the Emperor by whose 
command thou sufferest so severe a restraint ? ” 

Perhaps Douban wished he had forborne this question, for 
in the very moment when he put it, the door of the chamber 
opened, and the Emperor entered, with his daughter hanging upon 
his arm, dressed with simplicity, yet with becoming splendor. 
She had found time, it seems, to change her dress for a white 
robe, which resembled a kind of mourning, the chief ornament 
of which was a diamond chaplet, of inestimable value, which 
surrounded and bound the long sable tresses that reached from 
her head to her waist. Terrified almost to death, she had been 
surprised by her father in the company of her husband the Cae- 
sar, and her mother ; and the same thundering mandate had at 
once ordered Briennius, in the character of a more than suspect* 
ed traitor, under the custody of a strong guard of Varangians, 
and commanded her to attend her father to the bedchamber of 
Ursel, in which she now stood ; resolved, however, that she 
would stick by the sinking fortunes of her husband, even in the 
last extremity, yet no less determined that she would not rely 
upon her own entreaties or remonstrances, until she should see 
whether her father’s interference was likely to reassume a re- 
solved and positive character. Hastily as the plans of Alexius 
had been formed, and hastily as they had been disconcerted by 
accident, there remained no slight chance that he might be 
forced to come round to the purpose on which his wife and 
daughter had fixed their heart, the forgiveness, namely, of the 
guilty Nicephorus Briennius. To his astonishment, and not 
perhaps greatly to his satisfaction, he heard the patient deeply 
engaged with the physician in canvassing his own character. 

“ Think not,” said Ursel in reply to him, “ that though I am 
immured in this dungeon, and treated as something worse than 
an outcast of humanity — and although I am, moreover, deprived 
of my eyesight, the dearest gift of Heaven — think not, I say, 
though I suffer all this by the cruel will of Alexius Comnenus, 
that therefore I hold him to be mine enemy ; on the contrary, 
it is by his means that the blinded and miserable prisoner has 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


329 


been taught to seek a liberty far more unconstrained than this 
poor earth can afford, and a vision far more clear than any 
Mount Pisgah on this wretched side of the grave can give us : 
Shall I therefore account the Emperor among mine enemies ? 
He who has taught me the vanity of earthly things — the noth- 
ingness of earthly enjoyments — and the pure hope of a better 
world, as a certain exchange for the misery of the present ? 
No ! ” 

The Emperor had stood somewhat disconcerted at the be- 
ginning of his speech, but hearing it so very unexpectedly ter- 
minate, as he was willing to suppose, much in his own favor, 
he threw himself into an attitude which was'partly that of 
a modest person listening to his own praises, and partly that of 
a man highly struck with the commendations heaped upon him 
by a generous adversary. 

“ My friend,” he said aloud, “how truly do you read my pur- 
pose, when you suppose that the knowledge which men of your 
disposition can extract from evil, was all the experience which 
I wished you to derive from a captivity protracted by adverse 
circumstances, far, very far, beyond my wishes ! Let me em- 
brace the generous man who knows so well how to construe the* 
purpose of a perplexed, but still faithful friend.” 

The patient raised himself in his bed. 

“ Hold there ! ” he said, “ methinks my faculties begin to 
collect themselves. Yes,” he muttered, “ that is the treacher- 
ous voice which first bid me welcome as a friend, and then 
commanded fiercely that I should be deprived of the sight of 
my eyes ! — Increase thy rigor if thou wilt, Comnenus — add, if 
thou canst, to the torture of my confinement — but since I can- 
not see thy hypocritical and inhuman features, spare me, in 
mercy, the sound of a voice, more distressing to mine ear than 
toads, than serpents, — than whatever nature has most offensive 
and disgusting ! ” 

This speech was delivered with so much energy, that it was 
in vain that the emperor strove to interrupt its tenor ; although 
he himself, as well as Douban and his daughter, heard a great 
deal more of the language of unadorned and natural passion 
than he had counted upon. 

“ Raise thy head, rash man,” he said, “ and charm thy 
tongue, ere it proceed in a strain which may cost thee dear. 
Look at me, and see if I have not reserved a reward capable of 
atoning for all the evil which thy folly may charge to my ac- 
count. 

Hitherto the prisoner had remained with his eyes obsti* 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


33 ° 

nately shut, regarding the imperfect recollection he had of sight* 
which had been before his eyes the foregoing evening, as the 
mere suggestion of a deluded imagination, if not actually pre- 
sented by some seducing spirit. But now when his eyes fairly 
encountered the stately figure of the Emperor, and the graceful 
form of his lovely daughter, painted in the tender rays of the 
morning dawn, he ejaculated faintly, “ I see ! — I see ! ” — And 
with that ejaculation fell back on the pillow in a swoon, which 
instantly found employment for Douban and his restoratives. 

“ A most wonderful cure indeed ! ” exclaimed the physi- 
cian ; “ and the height of my wishes would be to possess such 
another miraculous restorative.” 

“ Fool ! ” said the Emperor ; “ canst thou not conceive that 
what has never been taken away is restored with little difficulty ? 
He was made,” he said, lowering his voice, “ to undergo a pain- 
ful operation, which led him to believe that the organs of sight 
were destroyed ; and as light scarcely ever visited him, and 
when it did, only in doubtful and almost invisible glimmerings, 
the prevailing darkness, both physical and mental, that sur- 
rounded him, prevented him from being sensible of the existence 
of that precious faculty, of which he imagined himself bereft. 
Perhaps thou wilt ask my reason for inflicting upon him so 
strange a deception ? — Simply it was, that being by it conceived 
incapable of reigning, his memory might pass out of the minds 
of the public, while, at the same time, I reserved his eyesight, 
that in case occasion should call, it might be in my power once 
more to liberate him from his dungeon, and employ, as I now 
propose to do, his courage and talents in the service of the em- 
pire, to counterbalance those of other conspirators.” 

“And can your Imperial Highness,” said Douban, “hope 
that you have acquired this man’s duty and affection by the 
conduct you have observed in him ? ” 

“ I cannot tell,” answered the Emperor ; “that must be as 
futurity shall determine. All I know is, that it is no fault of 
mine, if Ursel does not reckon freedom and a long course of 
empire — perhaps sanctioned by an alliance with our own blood 
— and the continued enjoyment of the precious organs of eye- 
sight, of which a less scrupulous man would have deprived him, 
against a maimed and darkened existence.” 

“ Since such is your Highness’s opinion and resolution,” 
said Douban, “it is for me to aid, and not to counteract it. Per- 
mit me, therefore, to pray your Highness and the Princess to 
withdraw, that I may use such remedies as may confirm a 
mind which has been so strangely shaken, and restore to him 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


331 

fully the use of those eyes, of which he has so long been de- 
prived. ’’ 

“ I am content, Douban,” said the Emperor • “ but take * 
notice, Ursel is not totally at liberty until he has expressed the 
resolution to become actually mine. It may behove both him 
and thee to know, that although there is no purpose of remit- 
ting him to the dungeons of the Blacquernal palace, yet if he, 
or any on his part, should aspire to head a party in these fever- 
ish times, — by the honor of a gentleman, to swear a Frankish 
oath, he shall find that he is not out of the reach of the battle- 
axes of my Varangians. I trust to thee to communicate this 
fact, which concerns alike him and all who have interest in his 
fortunes. — Come, daughter, we will withdraw, and leave the 
leech with his patient — Take notice, Douban, it is of impor- 
tance that you acquaint me the very first moment when the 
patient can hold rational communication with me.” 

Alexius and his accomplished daughter departed accord- 
ingly- 


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

Sweet are the uses of adversity, 

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 

Bears yet a precious jewel in its head. 

As You Like It. 

From a terraced roof of the Blacquernal palace, accessible 
by a sash-door, which opened from the bedchamber of Ursel, 
there was commanded one of the most lovely and striking views 
which the romantic neighborhood of Constantinople afforded. 

After suffering him to repose and rest his agitated faculties, 
it was to this place that the physician led his patient ; for, 
when somewhat composed, he had of himself requested to be 
permitted to verify the truth of his restored eyesight, by look- 
ing out once more upon the majestic face of nature. 

On the one hand, the scene which he beheld was a master- 
piece of human art. The proud city ornamented with stately 
buildings, as became the capital of the world, showed a suc- 
cession of glittering spires and orders of architecture, some of 
them chaste and simple, like those the capitals of which were 
borrowed from baskets full of acanthus ; some deriving the 
fluting of their shafts from the props made originally to sup« 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


332 

port the lances of the earlier Greeks — forms simple, yet more 
graceful in their simplicity than any which human ingenuity 
has been able since to invent. With the most splendid speci- 
mens which ancient art could afford of those strictly classical 
models were associated those of a later age, where more modern 
taste had endeavored at improvement, and, by mixing the 
various orders, had produced such as were either composite, 
or totally out of rule. The size of the buildings in which they 
were displayed, however, procured them respect ; nor could 
even the most perfect judge of architecture avoid being struck 
by the grandeur of their extent and effect, although hurt by 
the incorrectness of the taste in which they were executed. 
Arches of triumph, towers, obelisks, and spires, designed for 
various purposes, rose up into the air in confused magnificence ; 
while the lower view was filled by the streets of the city, the 
domestic habitations forming long narrow alleys, on either side 
of which the houses arose to various and unequal heights, but, 
being generally finished with terraced coverings, thick set with 
plants and flowers, and fountains, had, when seen from an emi- 
nence, a more noble and interesting aspect than is ever afforded 
by the sloping and uniform roofs of streets in the capitals of 
the north of Europe. 

It has taken us some time to give, in words, the idea which 
was at a single glance conveyed to Ursel, and affected him at 
first with great pain. His eyeballs had been long strangers to 
that daily exercise, which teaches us the habit of correcting the 
scenes as they appear to our sight, by the knowledge which we 
derive from the use of our other senses. His idea of distance 
was so confused, that it seemed as if all the spires, turrets, and 
minarets which he beheld, were crowded forward upon his eye- 
balls, and almost touching them. With a shriek of horror, 
Ursel turned himself to the farther side, and cast his eyes upon 
a different scene. Here also he saw towers, steeples, and tur- 
rets, but they were those of the churches and public buildings 
beneath his feet, reflected from the dazzling piece of watet 
which formed the harbor of Constantinople, and which, from 
the abundance of wealth which it transported to the city, was 
well termed the Golden Horn. In one place, this superb basin 
was lined with quays, where stately dromonds and argosies 
unloaded their wealth, while by the shore of the haven, galleys, 
feluccas, and other small craft, idly flapped the singularly 
shaped and snow-white pinions which served them for sails. 
In other places the Golden Horn lay shrouded in a verdant 
mantle of trees, where the private gardens of wealthy or dis- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


333 

tinguished individuals, or places of public recreation, shot 
down upon and were bounded by the glassy waters. 

On the Bosphorus, which might be seen in the distance, the 
little fleet of Tancred was lying in the same station they had 
gained during the night, which was fitted to command the 
opposite landing ; this their general had preferred to a mid- 
night descent upon Constantinople, not knowing whether, so 
coming, they might be received as friends or enemies. This 
delay, however, had given the Greeks an opportunity, either by 
the orders of Alexius, or the equally powerful mandates of some 
of the conspirators, to tow six ships of war, full of armed men, 
and provided with the maritime offensive weapons peculiar to 
the Greeks at that period, which they had moored so as exactly 
to cover the place where the troops of Tancred must neces- 
sarily land. 

This preparation gave some surprise to the valiant Tancred, 
who did not know that such vessels had arrived in the harbor 
from Lemnos on the preceding night. The undaunted courage 
of that prince was, however, in no respect to be shaken by the 
degree of unexpected danger with which his adventure now 
appeared to be attended. 

This splendid view, from the description of which we have 
in some degree digressed, was seen by the physician and Ursel 
from a terrace, the loftiest almost on the palace of the Blac- 
quernal. To the city-ward, it was bounded by a solid wall, of 
considerable height, giving a resting-place for the roof of a 
lower building which, sloping outward, broke to the view the 
vast height unobscured otherwise save by a high and massy 
balustrade, composed of bronze, which, to the havenward, sunk 
sheer down upon an uninterrupted precipice. 

No sooner, therefore, had Ursel turned his eyes that way, 
than, though placed far from the brink of the terrace, he ex- 
claimed, with a shriek, “ Save me — save me ! if you are not 
indeed the destined executors of the Emperor’s will.” 

“ We are indeed such,” said Douban, “ to save, and if pos- 
sible to bring you to complete recovery ; but by no means to 
do vou injury, or to suffer it to be offered by others.” 

Guard me then from myself,” said Ursel, “ and save me 
from the reeling and insane desire which I feel to plunge my- 
self into the abyss, to the edge of which you have guided me.” 

“ Such a giddy and dangerous temptation is,” said the 
physician, “ common to those who have not for a long time 
looked down from precipitous heights, and are suddenly brought 
to them. Nature, however bounteous, hath not provided for 


334 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


the cessation of our faculties for years, and for their sudden 
resumption in full strength and vigor. An interval, longer or 
shorter, must needs intervene. Can you not believe this ter- 
race a safe station while you have my support and that of this 
faithful slave ? ” 

“ Certainly/’ said Ursel ; “ but permit me to turn my face 
towards this stone wall, for I cannot bear to look at the flimsy 
piece of wire, which is the only battlement of defence that in- 
terposes betwixt me and the precipice.” He spoke of the 
bronze balustrade, six feet high, and massive in proportion. 
Thus saying, and holding fast by the physician’s arm, Ursel, 
though himself a younger and more able man, trembled, and 
moved his feet as slowly as if made of lead, until he reached 
the sashed door, where stood a kind of balcony-seat, in which 
he placed himself. — “ Here,” said he, “ will I remain.” 

“ And here,” said Douban, “ will I make the communica- 
tion of the Emperor, which it is necessary you should be pre- 
pared to reply to. It places you, you will observe, at your own 
disposal for liberty or captivity, but on conditions for your re- 
signing that sweet but sinful morsel termed revenge, which, I 
must not conceal from you, chance appears willing to put into 
your hand. You know the degree of rivalry in which you have 
been held by the Emperor, and you know the measure of evil 
you have sustained at his hand. The question is, Can you for- 
give what has taken place ? ” 

“Let me wrap my head round with my mantle,” said Ursel, 
“ to dispel this dizziness which still oppresses my poor brain, 
and as soon as the power of recollection is granted me, you 
shall know my sentiments.” 

He sank upon the seat, muffled in the way which he de- 
scribed, and after a few minutes’ reflection, with a trepidation 
which argued the patient still to be under the nervous feeling of 
extreme horror mixed with terror, he addressed Douban thus : — * 
“ The operation of wrong and cruelty, in the moment when 
they are first inflicted, excites, of course, the utmost resentment 
of the sufferer ; nor is there, perhaps, a passion which lives so 
long in his bosom as the natural desire of revenge. If, then, 
during the first month, when I lay stretched upon my bed of 
want and misery, you had offered me an opportunity of revenge 
upon my cruel oppressor, the remnant of miserable life which 
remained to me should have been willingly bestowed to pur- 
chase it. But a suffering of weeks, or even months, must not 
be compared in effect with that of years. For a short space of 
endurance, the body, as well as the mind, retains that vigorous 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


335 

habit which holds the prisoner still connected with life, and 
teaches him to thrill at the long-forgotten chain of hopes, of 
wishes, of disappointments, and mortifications, which affected 
his former existence. But the wounds become callous as they 
harden, and other and better feelings occupy their place, while 
they gradually die away in forgetfulness. The enjoyments, the 
amusements of this world, occupy no part of his time upon 
whom the gates of despair have once closed. I tell thee, my 
kind physician, that for a season, in an insane attempt to effect 
my liberty, I cut through a large portion of the living rock. 
But Heaven cured me of so foolish an idea ; and if I did not 
actually come to love Alexius Comnenus — for how could that 
have been a possible effect in any rational state of my intel- 
lect? — yet as I became convinced of my own crimes, sins, and 
follies, the more and more was I also persuaded that Alexius 
was but the agent through whom Heaven exercised a dearly- 
purchased right of punishing me for my manifold offences and 
transgressions ; and that it was not therefore upon the Emperor 
that my resentment ought to visit itself. And I can now say 
to thee, that, so far as a man who has undergone so dreadful 
a change can be supposed to know his own mind, I feel no 
desire either to rival Alexius in a race for empire, or to avail 
myself of any of the various proffers which he proposes to 
me as the price of withdrawing my claim. Let him keep un- 
purchased the crown, for which he has paid, in my opinion, a 
price which it is not worth.” 

“This is extraordinary stoicism, noble Ursel,” answered the 
physician Douban. “ Am I then to understand that you reject 
the fair offers of Alexius, and desire, instead of all which he 
is willing — nay anxious to bestow — to be committed safely back 
to thy old blinded dungeon in the Blacquernal, that you may 
continue at ease those pietistic meditations which have already 
conducted thee to so extravagant a conclusion ? ” 

“Physician,” said Ursel, while a shuddering fit that affected 
his whole body testified his alarm at the alternative proposed — 
“one would imagine thine own profession might have taught 
thee, that no mere mortal man, unless predestined to be a 
glorified saint, could ever prefer darkness to the light of day ; 
blindness itself to the enjoyment of the power of sight ; the 
pangs of starving to competent sustenance, or the damps of 
a dungeon to the free air of God’s creation. No ! — it may 
be virtue to do so, but to such a pitch mine does not soar. All 
I require of the Emperor for standing by him with all the power 
my name can give him at this crisis is, that he will provide for 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


•33 s 


my reception as a monk in some of those pleasant and well* 
endowed seminaries of piety, to which his devotion, or his fears, 
have given rise. Let me not be again the object of his suspi- 
cion, the operation of which is more dreadful than that of being 
the object of his hate. Forgotten by power, as I have myself 
lost the remembrance of those that wielded it, let me find my 
way to the grave, unnoticed, unconstrained, at liberty, in pos- 
session of my dim and disused organs of sight, and, above all, 
at peace.” 

“ If such be thy serious and earnest wish, noble Ursel,” said 
the physician, “ I myself have no hesitation to warrant to the^ 
the full accomplishment of thy religious moderate desires. 
But, bethink thee, thou art once more an inhabitant of the 
court, in which thou mayst obtain what thou wilt to-day ; while 
to-morrow, shouldst thou regret thy indifference, it may be thy 
utmost entreaty will not suffice to gain for thee the slightest ex- 
tension of thy present conditions.” 

“Be it so,” said Ursel ; “ I will then stipulate for another 
condition, which indeed has only reference to this day. I wall 
solicit the Imperial Majesty, with all humility, to spare me the 
pain of a personal treaty between himself and me, and he will 
be satisfied with the solemn assurance that I am most willing 
to do in his favor all that he is desirous of dictating ; while, 
on the other hand, I desire only the execution of those moder- 
ate conditions of my future ailment which I have already told 
thee at length.” 

“ But wherefore,” said Douban, “ shouldst thou be afraid of 
announcing to the Emperor thy disposition to an agreement, 
which cannot be esteemed otherwise than extremely moderate 
on thy part? Indeed, I fear the Emperor will insist on a brief 
personal conference.” 

“ I am not ashamed,” said Ursel, “ to confess the truth. It 
is true that I have, or think I have, renounced what the Scrip- 
ture calls the pride of life ; but the old Adam still lives within 
us, and maintains against the better part of our nature an in- 
extinguishable quarrel, easy to be aroused from its slumber, 
but as difficult to be again couched in peace. While last night 
I but half understood that mine enemy was in my presence, 
and while my faculties performed but half their duty in recall- 
ing his deceitful and hated accents, did not my heart throb in 
my bosom wdth all the agitation of a taken bird, and shall I 
again have to enter in a personal treaty with the man vffio, be 
his general conduct what it may, has been the constant and 
unprovoked cause of my unequalled misery ? Douban, no ! — 



COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


337 

to listen to his voice again, were to hear an alarm sounded to 
every violent and vindictive passion of my heart ; and though, 
may Heaven so help me, as my intentions towards him are up- 
right, yet it is impossible for me to listen to his professions 
with a chance of safety either to him or to myself. ” 

“ If you be so minded,” replied Douban, “ I shall only repeat 
to him your stipulation, and you must swear to him that you 
will strictly observe it. Without this being done, it must be 
difficult, or perhaps impossible, to settle the league of which 
both are desirous.” 

“ Amen ! ” said Ursel ; “ and as I am pure in my purpose, 
and resolved to keep it to the uttermost, so may Heaven guard 
me from the influence of precipitate revenge, ancient grudge, or 
new quarrel ! ” 

An authoritative knock at the door of the sleeping cham- 
ber was now heard, and Ursel, relieved by more powerful feel- 
ings from the giddiness of which he had complained, walked 
firmly into the bedroom, and, seating himself, waited with 
averted eyes the entrance of the person who demanded admit- 
tance, and who proved to be no other than Alexius Comnenus. 

The Emperor appeared at the door in a warlike dress, suited 
for the decoration of a prince who was to witness a combat in 
the lists fought out before him. 

“ Sage Douban,” he said, “ has our esteemed prisoner, 
Ursel, made his choice between our peace and enmity ? ” 

“ He hath, my lord,” replied the physician, “ embraced the 
lot of that happy portion of mankind, whose hearts and lives 
are devoted to the service of your Majesty’s government.” 

“ He will then this day,” continued the Emperor, “render 
me the office of putting down all those who may pretend to abet 
insurrection in his name, and under pretext of his wrongs? ” 

“ He will, my lord,” replied the physician, “ act to the full- 
est the part which you require.” 

“And in what way,” said the Emperor, adopting his most 
gracious tone of voice, “would our faithful Ursel desire that 
services like these, rendered in the hour of extreme need, 
should be acknowledged by the Emperor ? ” 

“ Simply,” answered Douban, “ by saying nothing upon the 
subject. He desires only that all jealousies between you and 
him may be henceforth forgotten, and that he may be admitted 
into one of your Highness’s monastic institutions, with leave 
to dedicate the rest of his life to the worship of Heaven and its 
saints.” 

“ Hath he persuaded thee of this, Douban ? ” — said the Era- 
22 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


338 

peror, in a low and altered voice. “ By Heaven ! when I con* 
sider from what prison he yvas brought, and in what guise he 
inhabited it, I cannot believe in this gall-less disposition. He 
must at least speak to me himself, ere I can believe, in some 
degree, the transformation of the fiery Ursel into a being so 
little capable of feeling the ordinary impulses of mankind.” 

“ Hear me, Alexius Comnenus,” said the prisoner ; “ and 
so may thine own prayers to Heaven find access and accepta- 
tion as thou belieyest the words which I speak to thee in sim- 
plicity of heart. If thine empire of Greece were made of coined 
gold, it would hold out no bait for my acceptance ; nor, I thank 
Heaven, have even the injuries I have experienced at thy hand, 
cruel and extensive as they have been, impressed upon me the 
slightest desire of requiting treachery with treachery. Think 
of me as thou wilt, so thou seek’st not again to exchange words 
with me ; and believe me, that when thou hast put me under 
the most rigid of thy ecclesiastical foundations, the discipline, 
the fare and the vigils, will be far superior to the existence 
falling to the share of those whom the King delights to honor, 
and who therefore must afford the King their society whenever 
they are summoned to do so.” 

“ It is hardly for me,” said the physician, “to interpose in 
so high a matter ; yet, as trusted both by the noble Ursel, and 
by his Highness the Emperor, I have made a brief abstract of 
these short conditions to be kept by the high parties towards 
each other, sub crimine falsi.” 

The Emperor protracted the intercourse with Ursel, until he 
more fully explained to him the occasion which he should have 
that very day for his services. When they parted, Alexius, 
with a great show of affection, embraced his late prisoner, while 
it required all the self-command and stoicism of Ursel to avoid 
expressing in plain terms the extent to which Le abhorred the 
person who thus caressed him. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


33 9 


CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH. 


, * - * O, Conspiracy! 

Sham st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night. 

When evils are most free ? O, then, by day, 

Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 

To mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none, Conspiracy t 

Hide it in smiles and affability : 

For if thou path thy native semblance on, 

Not Erebus itself were dim enough 
To hide thee from prevention. 

Julius C^sar. 

The important morning at last arrived, on which, by the 
Imperial proclamation, the combat between the Caesar and 
Robert Count of Paris was appointed to take place. This was 
a circumstance in a great measure foreign to the Grecian 
manners, and to which, therefore, the people annexed different 
ideas from those which were associated with the same solemn 
decision of God, as the Latins called it, by the Western na- 
tions. The consequence was a vague, but excessive agitation 
among the people, who connected the extraordinary strife 
which they were to witness, with the various causes which had 
been whispered abroad as likely to give occasion to some gen- 
eral insurrection of a great and terrible nature. 

By the Imperial order, regular lists had been prepared for the 
combat, with opposite gates, or entrances, as was usual, for the 
admittance of the two champions ; and it was understood that 
the appeal was to be made to the Divinity by each, according 
to the forms prescribed by the Church of which the combatants 
were respectively members. The situation of these lists was 
on the side of the shore adjoining on the west to the conti- 
nent. At no great distance, the walls of the city were seen, of 
various architecture, composed of lime and of stone, and fur- 
nished with no less than four-and-twenty gates, or posterns, 
five of which regarded the land and nineteen the water. All 
this formed a beautiful prospect, much of which is still visible. 
The town itself is about nineteen miles in circumference ; and 
as it is on all sides surrounded with lofty cypresses, its general 
appearance is that of a city arising out of a stately wood of 
these magnificent trees, partly shrouding the pinnacles, obel- 
isks, and minarets, which then marked the site of many noble 
Christian temples ; but now, generally speaking, intimate the 
position of as many Mahometan mosques. 


340 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


These lists, for the convenience of spectators, were sur- 
rounded on all sides by long rows of seats, sloping downwards. 
In the middle of these seats, and exactly opposite the centre 
of the lists, was a high throne, erected for the Emperor him- 
self ; and which was separated from the more vulgar galleries 
by a circuit of wooden barricades, which, an experienced eye 
could perceive, might, in case of need, be made serviceable for 
purposes of defence. 

The lists were sixty yards in length, by perhaps about forty 
in breadth, and these afforded ample space for the exercise of 
the combat, both on horseback and on foot. Numerous bands 
of the Greek citizens began, with the very break of day, to 
issue from the gates and posterns of the city, to examine and 
wonder at the construction of the lists, pass their criticisms 
upon the purposes of the peculiar parts of the fabric, and occu- 
py places, to secure them for the spectacle. Shortly after ar- 
rived a large band of those soldiers who were called the Roman 
Immortals. These entered without ceremony, and placed 
themselves on either hand of the wooden barricade which 
fenced the Emperor’s seat. Some of them took even a greater 
liberty ; for, affecting to be pressed against the boundary, there 
were individuals who approached the partition itself, and 
seemed to meditate climbing over it, and placing themselves on 
the same side with the Emperor. Some old domestic slaves of 
the household now showed themselves, as if for the purpose of 
preserving this sacred circle, for Alexius and his court ; and, 
in proportion as the Immortals began to show themselves en- 
croaching and turbulent, the strength of the defenders of the 
prohibited precincts seemed gradually to increase. 

There was, though scarcely to be observed, besides the 
grand access to the Imperial seat from without, another open- 
ing also from the outside, secured by a very strong door, by 
which different persons received admission beneath the seats 
destined for the Imperial party. These persons, by their 
length of limb, breadth of shoulders, by the fur of their cloaks, 
and especially by the redoubted battle-axes which all of them 
bore, appeared to be Varangians ; but, although neither dressed 
in their usual habit of pomp, nor in their more effectual garb 
of war, still, when narrowly examined, they might be seen to 
possess their usual offensive weapons. These men, entering 
in separate and straggling parties, might be observed to join 
the slaves of the interior of the palace in opposing the intru- 
sion of the Immortals upon the seat of the Emperor, and the 
benches around. Two or three Immortals, who had actually 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


341 

made good their frolic, and climbed over the division, were 
hung back again, very unceremoniously, by the barbaric strength 
and sinewy arms of the Varangians. 

The people around, and in the adjacent galleries, most of 
whom had the air of citizens in their holiday dresses, com- 
mented a good deal on these proceedings, and were inclined 
strongly to make part with the Immortals. “ It was a shame 
to the Emperor,” they said, “ to encourage these British bar- 
barians to interpose themselves by violence between his per- 
son and the Immortal cohorts of the city, who were in some 
sort his own children.” 

Stephanos, the gymnastic, whose bulky strength and stature 
rendered him conspicuous amid this party, said, without hesita- 
tion, “ If there are two people here who will join in saying that 
the Immortals are unjustly deprived of their right of guarding 
the Emperor’s person, here is the hand that shall place them 
beside the Imperial chair.” 

“ Not so,” quoth a centurion of the Immortals, whom we 
have already introduced to our readers by the name of Har- 
pax ; “ not so, Stephanos : that happy time may arrive, but it 
is not yet come, my gem of the circus. Thou knowest that on 
this occasion it is one of these Counts, or western Franks, who 
undertakes the combat ; and the Varangians, who call these 
people their enemies, have some reason to claim a precedency 
in guarding the lists, which it might not at this moment be 
convenient to dispute with them. Why, man, if thou wert half 
so witty as thou art long, thou wouldst be sensible that it were 
bad woodinanship to raise the hollo upon the game, ere it had 
been driven within compass of the nets.” 

While the athlete rolled his huge gray eyes as if to conjure 
out the sense of this intimation, his little friend Lysimachus, 
the artist, putting himself to pain to stand upon his tiptoe, and 
look intelligent, said, approaching as near as he could to 
Harpax’s ear, “ Thou mayst trust me, gallant centurion, that 
this man of mould and muscle shall neither start like a babbling 
hound on a false scent, nor become mute and inert, when the 
general signal is given. But tell me,” said he, speaking very 
low, and for that purpose mounting a bench, which brought him 
on a level with the centurion’s ear, “ would it not have been 
better that a strong guard of the valiant Immortals had been 
placed in this wooden citadel, to ensure the object of the day ?” 

“ Without question,” said the centurion, “ it was so meant ; 
but these strolling Varangians have altered their station of theif 
own authority.” 


342 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ Were it not well,” said Lysimachus, “ that you, who are 
greatly more numerous than the barbarians, should begin a fray 
before more of these strangers arrive.” 

“ Content ye, friend,” said the centurion, coldly ; “ we know 
our time. An attack commenced too early would be worse than 
thrown away, nor would an opportunity occur of executing our 
project in the fitting time, if an alarm were prematurely given 
at this moment.” 

So saying, he shuffled off among his fellow-soldiers, so as to 
avoid suspicious intercourse with such persons as were only 
concerned with the civic portion of the conspirators. 

As the morning advanced, and the sun took a higher station 
in the horizon, the various persons whom curiosity, or some 
more decided motive, brought to see the proposed combat, were 
seen streaming from different j^arts of the town, and rushing to 
occupy such accommodation as the circuit round the lists 
afforded them. In their road to the place where preparation 
for combat was made, they had to ascend a sort of cape, which, 
in the form of a small hill, projected into the Hellespont, and 
the butt of which, connecting it with the shore, afforded a con- 
siderable ascent, and of course a more commanding view of the 
strait between Europe and Asia, than either the immediate 
vicinity of the city, of the still lower ground upon which the 
lists were erected. In passing this height, the earlier visitants 
of the lists made little or no halt ; but after a time, when it 
became obvious that those who had hurried forward to the 
place of combat were lingering there without any object or 
occupation, they that followed them in the same route, with 
natural curiosity, paid a tribute to the landscape, bestowing 
some attention on its beauty, and paused to see what auguries 
could be collected from the water, which were likely to have any 
concern in indicating the fate of the events that were to take 
place. Some straggling seamen were the first who remarked 
that a squadron of the Greek small craft (being that of Tan- 
cred) were in the act of making their way from Asia, and 
threatening a descent upon Constantinople. 

“ It is strange,” said a person, by rank the captain of a 
galley, “ that these small vessels, which were ordered to return 
to Constantinople, as soon as they disembarked the Latins, 
should have remained so long at Scutari, and should not be 
rowing back to the Imperial city until this time, on the second 
day after their departure from thence.” 

“ I pray to Heaven,” said another of the same profession, 
“that these seamen may come alone. It seems to me as if 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


343 

their ensign-staffs, bowsprits, and topmasts, were decorated 
with the same ensigns, or nearly the same, with those which 
the Latins displayed upon them, when, by the Emperor’s order, 
they were transported towards Palestine ; so methinks the 
voyage back again resembles that of a fleet of merchant ves- 
sels, who have been prevented from discharging their cargo at 
the place of their destination.” 

“ There is little good,” said, one of the politicians whom we 
formerly noticed, “ in dealing with such commodities, whether 
they are imported or exported. Yon ample banner which 
streams over the foremost galley, intimates the presence of a 
chieftain of no small rank among the Counts, whether it be for 
valor or for nobility.” 

The sea-faring leader added, with the voice of one who hints 
alarming tidings, “ They seem to have got to a point in the 
straits as high as will enable them to run down with the tide, 
and clear the cape which we stand on, although with what pur- 
pose they aim to land so close beneath the walls of the city, he 
is a wiser man than I who pretends to determine.” 

“ Assuredly,” returned his comrade, “ the intention is not a 
kind one. The wealth of the city has temptations to a poor 
people, who only value the iron which they possess as affording 
them the means of procuring the gold which they covet.” 

“ Ay, brother,” answered Demetrius the politician, “but see 
you not, lying at anchor within this bay which is formed by the 
cape, and at the very point where these heretics are likely to be 
carried by the tide, six strong vessels, having the power ol 
sending forth, not merely showers of darts and arrows, but of 
Grecian fire, as it is called, from their hollow decks ? If these 
Frank gentry continue directing their course upon the Imperial 
city, being as they are, 


* sed et ilia propago 

Conteintrix Superum, saevaeque avidissima caedis, 

Et violenta £uit ; ’ * 

we shall speedily see a combat better worth witnessing than 
that announced by the great trumpet of the Varangians. If 
you love me, let us sit down here for a moment, and see how 
this matter is to end.” 

“ An excellent motion, my ingenious friend,” said Lascaris, 
which was the name of the other citizen ; “ but, bethink you, 
shall we not be in danger from the missiles with which the 


* Ovid. Met. [Lib. i. 160.] 

- [“ That godless generation, greedy of slaughter and full of violence.”! 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


344 

audacious Latins will not fail to return the Greek fire, if, accord- 
ing to your conjecture, it shall be poured upon them by the 
Imperial squadron ? ” 

“ That is not ill argued, my friend,” said Demetrius ; “ but 
know that you have to do with a man who has been in such 
extremities before now ; and if such a discharge should open 
from the sea, I would propose to you to step back some fifty 
yards inland, and thus to interpose the very crest of the cape 
between us and the discharge of missiles ; a mere child might 
thus learn to face them without any alarm.” 

“ You are a wise man, neighbor,” said Lascaris, “ and pos- 
sess such a mixture of valor and knowledge as becomes a man 
whom a friend might be supposed safely to risk his life with. 
There be those, for instance, who cannot show you the slightest 
glimpse of what is going on, without bringing you within peril 
of your life ; whereas you, my worthy friend Demetrius, between 
your accurate knowledge of military affairs, and your regard for 
your friend, are sure to show him all that is to be seen without 
the least risk to a person, who is naturally unwilling to think 
of exposing himself to injury. But, Holy Virgin ! what is the 
meaning of that red flag which the Greek Admiral has this 
instant hoisted ? ” 

“ Why, you see, neighbor,” answered Demetrius, “ yonder 
western heretic continues to advance without minding the 
various signs which our Admiral has made to him to desist, 
and now he hoists the bloody colors, as if a man should clench 
his fist and say, If you persevere in your uncivil intention, I 
will do so and so.” 

“ By St. Sophia,” said Lascaris, “and that is giving him fair 
warning. But what is it the Imperial x\dmiral is about to do ? ” 

“ Run ! run ! friend Lascaris,” said Demetrius, “ or you will 
see more of that than perchance you have any curiosity for.” 

Accordingly, to add the strength of example to precept, 
Demetrius himself girt up his loins, and retreated with the most 
edifying speed to the opposite side of the ridge, accompanied by 
the greater part of the crowd, who had tarried there to witness 
the contest which the newsmonger promised, and were deter- 
mined to take his word for their own safety. The sound and 
sight which had alarmed Demetrius was the discharge of a 
large portion of Greek fire, which perhaps may be best com- 
pared to one of those immense Congreve rockets of the present 
day, which takes on its shoulders a small grapnel or anchor, 
and proceeds groaning through the air like a fiend overburdened 
by the mandate of some inexorable magician, and of which 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


345 

the operation was so terrifying, that the crews of the vessels 
attacked by this strange weapon frequently forsook every means 
of defence, and ran themselves ashore. One of the principal in- 
gredients of this dreadful fire was supposed to be naphtha, or 
the bitumen which is collected on the banks of the Dead Sea, 
and which, when in a state of ignition, could only be ex- 
tinguished by a very singular mixture, and which it was not 
likely to come in contact with. It produced a thick smoke and 
loud explosion, and was capable, says Gibbon, of communicat- 
ing its flames with equal vehemence in descent or lateral prog- 
ress.* In sieges, it was poured from the ramparts, or launched 
like our bombs, in red-hot balls of stone or iron, or it was 
darted in flax twisted round arrows and in javelins. It was 
considered as a state secret of the greatest importance ; and 
for well-nigh four centuries it was unknown to the Mahometans. 
But at length the composition was discovered by the Saracens, 
and used by them for repelling the crusaders, and overpower- 
ing the Greeks, upon whose side it had at one time been the 
most formidable implement of defence. Some exaggeration we 
must allow for a barbarous period ; but there seems no doubt 
that the general description of the crusader Joinville should be 
admitted as correct : — “It came flying through the air,” says 
that good knight, “ like a winged dragon, about the thickness 
of a hogshead, with the report of thunder and the speed of 
lightning, and the darkness* of the night was dispelled by this 
horrible illumination.” 

Not only the bold Demetrius and his pupil Lascaris, but all 
the crowd whom they influenced, fled manfully when the com- 
modore of the Greeks fired the first discharge ; and as the other 
vessels in the squadron followed his example, the heavens were 
filled with the unusual and outrageous noise, while the smoke 
was so thick as to darken the very air. As the fugitives passed 
the crest of the hill, they saw the seaman, whom we formerly 
mentioned as a spectator, snugly reclining under cover of a dry 
ditch, where he managed so as to secure himself as far as pos- 
sible from any accident. He could not, however, omit break- 
ing his jest on the politicians. 

“ What, ho ! ” he cried, “my good friends,” without raising 
himself above the counterscarp of his ditch, “ will you not 
remain upon your station long enough to finish that hopeful 
lecture upon battle by sea and land, which you had so happy 
an opportunity of commencing ? Believe me, the noise is more 

* For a full account of the Greek fire, see Gibbon, chapter 53. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


346 

alarming than hurtful ; the fire is all pointed in a direction 
opposite to yours, and if one of those dragons which you see 
does happen to fly landward instead of seaward, it is but the 
mistake of some cabin-boy, who has used his linstock with more 
willingness than ability.” 

Demetrius and Lascaris just heard enough of the naval 
hero’s harangue, to acquaint them with the new danger with 
which they might be assailed by the possible misdirection of 
the weapons, and, rushing down towards the lists at the head 
of a crowd half-desperate with fear, they hastily propagated the 
appalling news, that the Latins were coming back from Asia 
with the purpose of landing in arms, pillaging, and burning 
the city. 

The uproar, in the mean time, of this unexpected occurrence, 
was such as altogether to vindicate, in public opinion, the 
reported cause, however exaggerated. The thunder of the Greek 
fire came successively, one hard upon the other, and each, in 
its turn, spread a blot of black smoke upon the face of the land- 
scape, which, thickened by so many successive clouds, seemed 
at last, like that raised by a sustained fire of modern artillery, 
to overshadow the whole horizon. 

The small squadron of Tancred were completely hid from 
view in the surging volumes of darkness, which the breath of 
the weapons of the enemy had spread around him ; and it 
seemed by a red light, which began to show itself among the 
thickest of the veil of darkness, that one of the flotilla at least 
had caught fire. Yet the Latins resisted, with an obstinacy 
worthy of their own courage, and the fame of their celebrated 
leader. Some advantage they had, on account of their small 
size, and their lowness in the water, as well as the clouded 
state of the atmosphere, which rendered them difficult marks 
for the fire of the Greeks. 

To increase these advantages, Tancred, as well by boats as 
by the kind of rude signals made use of at the period, dispersed 
orders to his fleet, that each bark, disregarding the fate of the 
others, should press forward individually, and that the men 
from each should be put on shore wheresoever and howsoever 
they could effect that manoeuvre. Tancred himself set a noble 
example ; he was on board a stout vessel, fenced in some 
degree against the effect of the Greek fire by being in a great 
measure covered with raw hides, which hides had also been 
recently steeped in water. This vessel contained upwards of a 
hundred valiant warriors, several of them of knightly order, 
who had all night toiled at the humble labors of the oar, and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


347 


now in the morning applied their chivalrous hands to the arblast 
and to the bow, which were in general accounted the weapons 
of persons of a lower rank. Thus armed, and thus manned, 
Prince Tancred bestowed upon his bark the full velocity which 
wind, and tide, and oar, could enable her to obtain, and, pla- 
cing her in the situation to profit by them as much as his mari- 
time skill could direct, he drove with the speed of lightning 
among the vessels of Lemnos, plying, on either side, bows, cross- 
bows, javelins, and military missiles of every kind, with the 
greater advantage that the Greeks, trusting to their artificial 
fire, had omitted arming themselves with other weapons ; so 
that when the valiant Crusader bore down on them with so 
much fury, repaying the terrors of their fire with a storm of 
bolts and arrows no less formidable, they began to feel that their 
own advantage was much less than they had supposed, and 
that, like most other dangers, the maritime fire of the Greeks, 
when undauntedly confronted, lost at least one-half of its 
terrors. The Grecian sailors, too, when they observed the 
vessels approach so near, filled with the steel-clad Latins, 
began to shrink from a contest to be maintained hand to hand 
with so terrible an enemy. 

By degrees smoke began to issue from the sides of the great 
Grecian argosy, and the voice of Tancred announced to his 
soldiers that the Grecian Admiral’s vessel had taken fire, 
owing to negligence in the management of the means of de- 
struction she possessed, and that all they had now to do was to 
maintain such a distance as to avoid sharing her fate. Sparkles 
and flashes of flame w r ere next seen leaping from place to place 
on board of the great hulk, as if the element had had the sense 
and purpose of spreading wider the consternation, and disabling 
the few who still paid attention to the commands of their 
Admiral, and endeavored to extinguish the fire. The con- 
sciousness of the combustible nature of the freight began to add 
despair to terror ; from the boltsprit, the rigging, the yards, the 
sides, and every part of the vessel, the unfortunate crew were 
seen dropping themselves, to exchange for the most part a 
watery death for one by the more dreadful agency of fire. The 
crew of Tancred’s bark, ceasing, by that generous prince’s 
commands, to offer any additional annoyance to an enemy who 
was at once threatened by the perils of the ocean and of con- 
flagration, ran their vessel ashore in a smooth part of the bay, 
and jumping into the shallow sea, made the land without diffi- 
culty ; many of their steeds being, by the exertions of the 
owners, and the docility of the animals, brought ashore at the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


34 § 

same time with their masters. Their commander lost no time 
in forming their serried ranks into a phalanx of lancers, few 
indeed at first, but perpetually increasing as ship after ship of 
the little flotilla ran ashore, or, having more deliberately moored 
their barks, landed their men, and joined their companions. ) 

The cloud which had been raised by the conflict was now 
driven to leeward before the wind, and the strait exhibited only 
the relics of the combat. Here tossed upon the billows the 
scattered and broken remains of one or two of the Latin vessels 
which had been burned at the commencement of the combat, 
though their crews, by the exertions of their comrades, had in 
general been saved. Lower down were seen the remaining five 
vessels of the Lemnos squadron, holding a disorderly and diffi- 
cult retreat, with the purpose of gaining the harbor of Constan- 
tinople. In the place so late the scene of combat lay moored 
the hulk of the Grecian Admiral, burnt to the water’s edge, 
and still sending forth a black smoke from its scathed beams 
and planks. The flotilla of Tancred, busied in discharging its 
troops, lay irregularly scattered along the bay, the men making 
ashore as they could, and taking their course to join the stand- 
ard of their leader. Various black substances floated on the 
surface of the water, nearer or more distant to the shore ; some 
proved to be the wreck of the vessels which had been destroyed, 
and others more ominous still, the lifeless bodies of mariners 
who had fallen in the conflict. 

The standard had been borne ashore by the Prince’s 
favorite page, Ernest of Apulia, so soon as the keel of Tancred’s 
galley had grazed upon the sand. It was then pitched on the 
top of that elevated cape between Constantinople and the lists, 
where Lascaris, Demetrius, and other gossips had held their 
station in the commencement of the engagement, but from 
which all had fled, between the mingled dread of the Greek fire 
and the missiles of the Latin crusaders. 


CHAPTER THIRTIETH. 

Sheathed in complete armor, and supporting with his right 
hand the standard of his fathers, Tancred remained with his 
handful of warriors like so many statues of steel, expecting 
some sort of attack from the Grecian party which had occupied 
the lists, or from the numbers whom the city gates began now 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


349 


to pour forth — soldiers some of them, and others citizens, many 
of whom were arrayed as if for conflict. These persons, 
alarmed by the various accounts which were given of the com* 
batants, and the progress of the fight, rushed towards the 
standard of Prince Tancred, with the intention of beating it to 
the earth, and dispersing the guards who owed it homage and 
defence. But if the reader shall have happened to have ridden 
at any time through a pastoral country, with a dog of a noble 
race following him, he must have remarked, in the deference 
ultimately paid to the high-bred animal by the shepherd’s curas 
he crosses the lonely glen, of which the latter conceives himself 
the lord and guardian, something very similar to the demeanor 
of the incensed Greeks, when they approached near to the little 
band of Franks. At the first symptom of the intrusion of a 
stranger, the dog of the shepherd starts from his slumbers, and 
rushes towards the noble intruder with a clamorous declaration 
of war ; but when the diminution of distance between them 
shows to the aggressor the size and strength of his opponent, 
he becomes like a cruiser, who, in a chase, has, to his surprise 
and alarm, found' two tier of guns opposed to him instead of 
one. He halts — suspends his clamorous yelping, and, in fine, 
ingloriously retreats to his master, with all the dishonorable 
marks of positively declining the combat. 

It was in this manner that the troops of the noisy Greeks, 
with much hallooing and many a boastful shout, hastened both 
from the town and from the lists, with the apparent intention of 
sweeping from the field the few companions of Tancred. As 
they advanced, however, within the power of remarking the 
calm and regular order of those men who had landed, and 
arranged themselves under this noble chieftain’s banner, their 
minds were altogether changed as to the resolution of instant 
combat ; their advance became an uncertain and staggering 
gait, their heads were more frequently turned back to the point 
from which they came, than towards the enemy ; and their desire 
to provoke an instant scuffle vanished totally, when there did 
not appear the least symptom that their opponents cared about 
the matter. 

It added to the extreme confidence with which the Latins 
kept their ground, that the^ were receiving frequent, though 
small reinforcements from their comrades, who were landing 
by detachments all along the beach ; and that in the course of 
a short hour, their amount had been raised, on horseback and 
foot, to a number, allowing for a few casualties, not much less 
than that which set sail from Scutari. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


35 ° 

Another reason why the Latins remained unassailed, was 
certainly the indisposition of the two principal armed parties 
on shore to enter into a quarrel with them. The guards of 
every kind, who were faithful to the Emperor, and more espe- 
cially the Varangians, had their orders to remain firm at their 
posts, some in the lists, and others at various places of rendez- 
vous in Constantinople, where their presence was necessary to 
prevent the effects of the sudden insurrection which Alexius 
knew to be meditated against him. These, therefore, made no 
hostile demonstration towards the band of Latins, nor was it 
the purpose of the Emperor they should do so. 

On the other hand, the greater part of the Immortal Guards, 
and those citizens who were prepared to play a part in the 
conspiracy, had been impressed by the agents of the deceased 
Agelastes with the opinion, that this band of Latins, com- 
manded by Tancred, the relative of Bohemond, had been 
despatched by the latter to their assistance. These men, 
therefore, stood still, and made no attempt to guide or direct 
the popular efforts of such as inclined to attack these unex- 
pected visitors ; in which purpose, therefore, no very great 
party were united, while the majority were willing enough to 
find an apology for remaining quiet. 

In the mean time, the Emperor, from his palace of Blacquer- 
nal, observed what passed upon the straits, and beheld his navy 
from Lemnos totally foiled in their attempt, by means of the 
Greek fire, to check the intended passage of Tancred and his 
men. He had no sooner seen the leading ship of the squadron 
begin to beacon the darkness with its own fire, than the Em- 
peror formed a secret resolution to disown the unfortunate 
Admiral; and make peace with the Latins, if that should be 
absolutely necessary, by sending them his head. He had 
hardlv, therefore, seen the flames burst forth, and the rest of 
the vessels retreat from their moornings, than in his own mind 
the doom of the unfortunate Phraortes, for such was the name 
of the Admiral, was signed and sealed. 

Achilles Tatius, at the same instant, determining to keep a 
close eye upon the Emperor at this important crisis, came 
precipitately into the palace, with an appearance of great alarm. 

“ My Lord ! — my Imperial Lord ! I am unhappy to be the 
messenger of such unlucky news ; but the Latins have in great 
numbers succeeded in crossing the strait from Scutari. The 
Lemnos squadron endeavored to stop them, as was last night 
determined upon in fhe Imperial Council of War. By a heavy 
discharge of the Greek fire, one or two of the crusaders’ vessels 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


351 

we^e consumed, but by far the greater number of them pushed 
on their course, burned the leading ship of the unfortunate 
Ehraortes, and it is strongly reported he has himself perished 
\vith almost all his men. The rest have cut their cables, and 
abandoned the defence of the passage of the Hellespont.” 

And you, Achilles 1 atius,” said the Emperor, “ with what 
purpose is it that you now bring me this melancholy news, at a 
period so late, when I cannot amend the consequences? ” 

. * U°d er favor, most gracious Emperor,” replied the con- 
spirator, not without coloring and stammering, “ such was not 
my intention I had hoped to submit a plan, by which I might 
easily have prepared the way for correcting this little error.” 

“Well, your plan, sir?” said the Emperor, dryly. 

“ With your sacred Majesty’s leave,” said the Acolyte, “ I 
would myself have undertaken instantly to lead against this 
Tancred and his Italians the battle-axes 'of the faithful Varan- 
gian guard, who will make no more account of the small number 
of Franks who have come ashore, than the farmer holds of the 
hordes of rats and mice, and such like mischievous vermin, who 
have harbored in his granaries.” 

“ And what mean you,” said the Emperor, “ that I am to do, 
while my Anglo-Saxons fight for my sake ? ” 

“ Your Majesty,” replied Achilles, not exactly satisfied with 
the dry and caustic manner in which the Emperor addressed 
him, “may put yourself at the head of the Immortal cohorts of 
Constantinople ; and I am your security, that you may either 
perfect the victory over the Latins, or at least redeem the most 
distant chance of a defeat, by advancing at the head of this 
choice body of domestic troops, should the day appear doubt- 
ful.” 

“You, yourself, Achilles Tatius,” returned the Emperor, 
“ have repeatedly assured us, that these Immortals retain a 
perverse attachment to our rebel Ursel. How is it, then, you 
would have us intrust our defence to these bands, when we have 
engaged our valiant Varangians in the proposed conflict with 
the flower of the western army ? — Did you think of this risk, 
Sir Follower ? ” 

Achilles Tatius, much alarmed at an intimation indicative 
of his purpose being known, answered, “'That in his haste he 
had been more anxious to recommend the plan which should 
expose his own person to the greater danger, than that perhaps 
which was most attended with personal safety to his Imperial 
Master.” 

“ I thank you for so doing,” said the Emperor; “you have 


COUNT ROBERT OF PART'S. 


35 2 

anticipated my wishes, though it is not in my power at present 
to follow the advice you have given me. I would have been 
well contented, undoubtedly, had these Latins measured their 
way over the strait again, as suggested by last night’s council ; 
but since they have arrived, and stand embattled on our shores, 
it is better that we pay them with money and with spoil, than 
with the lives of our gallajit subjects. We cannot, after all, 
believe that they come with any serious intention of doing us 
injury ; it is but the insane desire of witnessing feats of battle 
and single combat, which is to them the breath of their nostrils, 
that can have impelled them to this partial countermarch. I 
impose upon you, Achilles Tatius, combining the Protospathaire 
in the same commission with you, the duty of riding up to yonder 
standard, and learning of their chief, called the Prince Tancred, 
if he is there in person, the purpose of his return, and the cause 
of his entering into debate with Phraortes and the Lemnos 
squadron. If they send us any reasonable excuse, we shall not 
be averse to receive it at their hands ; for we have not made so 
many sacrifices for the preservation of peace, to break forth into 
war, if, after all. so great an evil can be avoided. Thou wilt 
receive, therefore, with a candid and complacent mind, such 
apologies as they may incline to bring forward ; and be assured 
that the sight of this puppet-show of a single combat will be 
enough of itself to banish every other consideration from the 
reflection of these giddy crusaders.” 

A knock was at this moment heard at the door of the Em- 
peror’s apartment ; *and upon the word being given to enter the 
Protospathaire made his appearance. He was arrayed in a 
splendid suit of ancient Roman fashioned armor. The want 
of a visor left his countenance entirely visible; which, pale and . 
anxious as it was, did not well become the martial crest and 
dan6ing plume with which it was decorated. He received the 
commission already mentioned with the less alacrity, because 
the Acolyte was added to him as his colleague ; for, as the 
reader may have observed, these two officers were of separate 
factions in the army, and on indifferent terms with each other. 
Neither did the Acolyte consider his being united in commission 
with the Protospathaire, as a mark either of the Emperor’s 
confidence, or of his own safety. He was, however, in the 
mean time, in the Blacquernal, where the slaves of the interior 
made not the least hesitation, when ordered, to execute any 
officer of the court. The two generals had, therefore, no other 
alternative, than that which is allowed to two greyhounds who 
are reluctantly coupled together. The hope of Achilles Tatius 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS \ 


353 

was, that he might get safely through his mission to Tancred, 
after which he thought the successful explosion of the conspir- 
acy might take place and have its course, either as a matter 
desired and countenanced by those Latins, or passed over as 
a thing in which they took no interest on either side. 

By the parting order of the Emperor, they were to mount 
on horseback at the sounding of the great Varangian trumpet, 
put themselves at the head of those Anglo-Saxon guards in 
the court-yard of their barrack, and await the Emperor’s further 
orders. 

There was something in this arrangement which pressed 
hard on the conscience of Achilles Tatius, yet he was at a loss 
to justify his apprehensions to himself, unless from a conscious 
feeling of his own guilt. He felt, however, that in being de- 
tained, under pretence of an honorable mission, at the head of 
the Varangians, he was deprived of the liberty of disposing of 
himself, by which he had hoped to communicate with the Caesar 
and Hereward, whom he reckoned upon as his active accom- 
plices, not knowing that the first was at this moment a prisoner 
in the Blacquernal, where Alexius had arrested him in the 
apartments of the Empress, and that the second was the most 
important support of Comnenus during the whole of that event- 
ful day. 

When the gigantic trumpet of the Varangian guards sent 
forth .its deep signal through the city, the Protospathaire hur- 
ried Achilles along with him to the rendezvous of the Varan- 
gians, and on the way said to him, in an easy and indifferent 
tone, “As the Emperor is in the field in person, you his 
representative, or Follower, will of course transmit no orders to 
the body-guard, except such as shall receive their origin from 
himself, so that you will consider your authority as this day 
suspended.” 

“ I regret,” said Achilles, “ that there should have seemed 
any cause for such precautions ; I had hoped my own truth 
and fidelity — but — I am obsequious to his imperial pleasure in 
all things.” 

“ Such are his orders,” said the other officer, te and you 
know under what penalty obedience is enforced.” 

“If I do not,” said Achilles, “the composition of this body 
of guards would remind me, since it comprehends not only great 
part of those Varangians, who are the immediate defenders of 
the Emperor’s throne, but those slaves of the interior, who are 
the executioners of his pleasure.” 

To this the Protospathaire returned no answer, while the 

23 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS 


354 

more closely the Acolyte looked upon the guard which attended, 
to the unusual number of nearly three thousand men, the mora 
had he reason to believe that he might esteem himself fortunate, 
if, by the intervention of either the Caesar, Agelastes, or Here- 
ward, he could pass to the conspirators a signal to suspend the 
intended explosion, which seemed to be provided against by the 
Emperor with unusual caution. He would have given the full 
dream of empire, with which he had been for a short time lulled 
asleep, to have seen but a glimpse of the azure plume of 
Nicephorus, the white mantle of the philosopher, or even a 
glimmer of Hereward’s battle-axe. No such objects could be 
seen anywhere, and not a little was the faithless Follower dis- 
pleased to see that, whichever way he turned his eyes, those of 
the Protospathaire, but especially of the trusty domestic officers 
of the empire, seemed to follow and watch their occupation. 

Amidst the numerous soldiers whom he saw on all sides, 
his eye did not recognize a single man with whom he could 
exchange a friendly or confidential glance, and he stood in all 
that agony of terror, which is rendered the more discomfiting, 
because the traitor is conscious that, beset by various foes, his 
own fears are the most likely of all to betray him. Internally, as 
the danger seemed to increase, and as his alarmed imagination 
attempted to discern new reasons for it, he could only conclude 
that either one of the three principal conspirators, or at least 
some of the inferiors, had turned informers ; and his doubt was, 
whether he should not screen his own share of what had been 
premeditated, by flinging himself at the feet of the Emperor, and 
making a full confession. But still the fear of being premature 
in having recourse to such a base means of saving himself, 
joined to the absence of the Emperor, united to keep within his 
lips a secret, which concerned not only all his future fortunes, 
but life itself. He was in the mean time, therefore, plunged as 
it were in a sea of trouble and uncertainty, while the specks of 
land, which seemed to promise him refuge, were distant, dimly 
seen, and extremely difficult of attainment. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 


355 


CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST. 

To-morrow — oh, that’s sudden 1 Spare him, spare him : 

He’s not prepared to die. 

Shaksfearb. 

At the moment when Achilles Tatius, with a feeling of much 
insecurity, awaited the unwinding of the perilous skein of 
state politics, a private council of the Imperial family was held 
in the hall termed the Temple of the Muses, repeatedly dis- 
tinguished as the apartment in which the Princess Anna Com- 
nena was wont to make her evening recitations to those who 
were permitted the honor of hearing prelections of her history. 
The council consisted of the Empress Irene, the Princess her- 
self, and the Emperor, with the Patriarch of the Greek Church, 
as a sort of mediator between a course of severity and a dan- 
gerous degree of lenity. 

“Tell not me, Irene,” said the Emperor, “of the fine things 
attached to the praise of mercy. Here have I sacrificed my 
just revenge over my rival Ursel, and what good do I obtain 
by it ? Why, the obstinate old man, instead of being tractable, 
and sensible of the generosity which has spared his life and 
eyes, can be with difficulty brought to exert himself in favor of 
the Prince to whom he owes them. I used to think that eye- 
sight and the breath of life were things which one would pre- 
serve at any sacrifice ; but, on the contrary, I now believe men 
value them like mere toys. Talk not to me, therefore, of the 
gratitude to be excited by saving this ungrateful cub ; and be- 
lieve me, girl,” turning to Anna, “ that not only will all my 
subjects, should I follow your advice, laugh at me for sparing 
a man so predetermined to work my ruin, but even thou thyself 
wilt be the first to upbraid me with the foolish kindness thou 
art now so anxious to extort from me.” 

“Your Imperial pleasure, then,” said the Patriarch, “is 
fixed that your unfortunate son-in-law shall suffer death for his 
accession to this conspiracy, deluded by that heathen villain 
Agelastes, and the traitorous Achilles Tatius ? ” 

“ Such is my purpose,” said the Emperor ; “ and in evidence 
that I mean not again to pass over a sentence of this kind with 
a seeming execution only, as in the case of Ursel, this ungrate- 
ful traitor of ours shall be led from the top of the staircase, or 


COUNT ROBERT OF FARTS. 


35 6 

ladder of Acheron, as it is called, through the large chamber 
named the Hall of Judgment, at the upper end of which are 

arranged the apparatus for execution, by which I swear ” 

Swear not at -all ! ” said the Patriarch ; “ I forbid thee, ill 
the name of that Heaven whose voice (though unworthy) speaks 
in my person, to quench the smoking flax, or destroy the slight 
hope which there may remain, that you may finally be per- 
suaded to alter your purpose respecting your misguided son-in- 
law, within the space allotted to him to sue for your mercy. 
Remember, I pray you, the remorse of Constantine.’* 

“ What means your reverence ? ” said Irene. 

“ A trifle,” replied the Emperor, “ not worthy being quoted 
from such a mouth as the Patriarch’s, being, as it probably is, 
a relic of paganism.” 

“ What is it ? ” exclaimed the females anxiously, in the hope 
of hearing something which might strengthen their side of the 
argument, and something moved, perhaps, by curiosity, a 
motive which seldom slumbers in a female bosom, even when 
the stronger passions are in arms. 

“ The Patriarch will tell you,” answered Alexius, “ since 
you must needs know ; though I promise you, you will not 
receive any assistance in your argument from a silly legendary 
tale.” 

“ Hear it, however,” said the Patriarch; “ for though it is a 
tale of the olden time, and sometimes supposed to refer to the 
period when heathenism predominated, it is no less true that 
it was a vow made and registered in the chancery of the right- 
ful Deity by an Emperor of Greece. 

“ What I am now to relate to you,” continued he, “ is, in 
truth, a tale not only of a Christian Emperor, but of him who 
made the whole empire Christian ; and of that very Constan- 
tine, who was also the first who declared Constantinople to be 
the metropolis of the empire. This hero, remarkable alike for 
his zeal for religion and for his warlike achievements, was 
crowned by Heaven with repeated victory, and with all manner 
of blessings, save that unity in his family which wise men are 
most ambitious to possess. Not only v r as the blessing of con- 
cord among brethren denied to the family of this triumphant 
Emperor, but a deserving son of mature age, w'ho had been 
supposed to aspire to share the throne with his father, was sud- 
denly and at midnight called upon to enter his defence against 
a capital charge of treason. You will readily excuse my refer- 
ring to the arts by which the son was rendered guilty in the 
eyes of the father. Be it enough to say, that the unfortunate 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


357 

jroung man fell a victim to the guilt of his stepmother, Fausta, 
and that he disdained to exculpate himself from a charge so 
gross and so erroneous. It is said, that the anger of the Em- 
peror was kept up against his son by the sycophants who called 
upon Constantine to observe that the culprit disdained even to 
supplicate for mercy, or vindicate his innocence from so foul a 
charge. 

“ But the death blow had no sooner struck the innocent 
youth, than his father obtained proof of the rashness with 
which he had acted. He had at this period been engaged in 
constructing the subterranean parts of the Blacquernal palace, 
which his remorse appointed to contain a record of his paternal 
grief and contrition. At the up :>er part of the staircase, called 
the Pit of Acheron, he caused to be constructed a large cham- 
ber, still called the Hall of Judgment, for the purpose of execu- 
tion. A passage through an archway in the upper wall leads 
from the hall to the place of misery, where the axe, or other 
engine, is disposed for the execution of state prisoners of con- 
sequence. Over this archway was placed a species of marble 
altar, surmounted by an image of the unfortunate Crispus — the 
materials were gold, and it bore the memorable inscription, To 
MY SON, WHOM I RASHLY CONDEMNED, AND TOO HASTILY EXE- 
CUTED. When constructing this passage, Constantine made a 
vow, that he himself and his posterity, being reigning Em- 
perors, would stand beside the statue of Crispus, at the time 
when any individual of their family should be led to execution, 
and before they suffered him to pass from the Hall of Judg- 
ment to the Chamber of Death, that they should themselves be 
personally convinced of the truth of the charge under which he 
suffered. 

“Time rolled on — the memory of Constantine was remem- 
bered almost like that of a saint, and the respect paid to it 
threw into shadow the anecdote of his son’s death. The exi- 
gencies of the state rendered it difficult to keep so large a sum 
in specie invested in a statue, which called to mind the un- 
pleasant failings of so great a man. Your Imperial Highness’s 
predecessors applied the metal which formed the statue to 
support the Turkish wars ; and the remorse and penance of 
Constantine died away in an obscure tradition of the Church 
or of the palace. Still, however, unless your Imperial Majesty 
has strong reasons to the contrary, I should give it as my opin- 
ion, that you will hardly achieve what is due to the memory of 
die greatest of your predecessors, unless you give this unfor- 
tunate criminal, being so near a relation of your own, an oppor- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


358 

tunity of pleading his cause before passing by the altar of 
refuge ; being the name which is commonly given to the 
monument of the unfortunate Crispus, son of Constantine, 
although now deprived both of the golden letters which com- 
posed the inscription, and the golden image which represented 
the royal sufferer.” 

A mournful strain of music was now heard to ascend the 
stair so often mentioned. 

“ If I must hear the Caesar Nicephorus Briennius, ere he 
pass the altar of refuge, there must be no loss of time,” said 
the Emperor; “for these melancholy sounds announce that he 
has already approached the Hall of Judgment.” 

Both the Imperial ladies began instantly, with the utmost 
earnestness, to deprecate the execution of the Caesar’s doom, 
and to conjure Alexius, as he hoped for quiet in his household, 
and the everlasting gratitude of his wife and daughter, that he 
would listen to their entreaties in behalf of an unfortunate man, 
who had been seduced into guilt, but not from his heart. 

“ I will at least see him,” said the Emperor, “ and the holy 
vow of Constantine shall be in the present instance strictly 
observed. But remember, you foolish women, that the state 
of Crispus and the present Caesar is as different as guilt from 
innocence, and that their fates, therefore, may be justly decided 
upon opposite principles, and with opposite results. But I will 
confront this criminal ; and you, Patriarch, may be present to 
render what help is in your power to a dying man ; for you, the 
wife and mother of the traitor, you will, methinks, do well to 
retire to the church, and pray God for the soul of the deceased, 
rather than disturb his last moments with unavailing lamenta- 
tions.” 

“ Alexius,” said the Empress Irene, “ I beseech you to be 
contented ; be assured that we will not leave you in this 
dogged humor of blood-shedding, lest you make such mate- 
rials for history as are fitter for the times of Nero than of 
Constantine.” 

The Emperor, without reply, led the way into the Hall of 
Judgment, where a much stronger light than usual was already 
shining up the stair of Acheron, from which were heard to 
sound, by sullen and intermitted fits, the penitential psalms 
which the Greek Church has appointed to be sung at executions. 
Twenty mute slaves, the pale color of whose turbans gave a 
ghastly look to the withered cast of their features, and the 
glaring whiteness of their eyeballs, ascended two by two, as it 
were from the bowels of the earth, each of them bearing in one 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


359 

hand a naked sabre, and in the other a lighted torch. After 
these came the unfortunate Nicephorus ; his looks were those 
of a man half-dead from the terror of immediate dissolution, 
and what he possessed of remaining attention was turned suc- 
cessively to two black-stoled monks, who were anxiously re- 
peating religious passages to him alternately from the Greek 
Scripture, and the form of devotion adopted by the court of 
Constantinople. The Caesar’s dress also corresponded to his 
mournful fortunes: His legs and arms were bare, and a simple 
white tunic, the neck of which was already open, showed that 
he had assumed the garments which were to serve his last 
turn. A tall muscular Nubian slave, who considered himself 
obviously as the principal person in the procession, bore on his 
shoulder a large heavy headsman’s axe, and, like a demon 
waiting on a sorcerer, stalked step for step after his victim. 
The rear of the procession was closed by a band of four priests, 
each of whom chanted from time to time the devotional psahn 
which was thundered forth on the occasion ; and another of 
slaves, armed with bows and quivers, and with lances, to resist 
any attempt at rescue, if such should be offered. 

It would have required a harder heart than that of the 
unlucky Princess to have resisted this gloomy apparatus of fear 
and sorrow, surrounding, at the same time directed against, a 
beloved object, the lover of her youth, and the husband of her 
bosom, within a few minutes of the termination of his mortal 
career. 

As the mournful train approached towards the altar of 
refuge, half-encircled as it now was by the two great and ex- 
panded arms which projected from the wall, the Emperor, who 
stood directly in the passage, threw upon the flame of the altar 
some chips of aromatic wood, steeped in spirit of wine, which, 
leaping at once into a blaze, illuminated the doleful procession, 
the figure of the principal culprit, and the slaves, who had 
most of them extinguished their flambeaux so soon as they had 
served the purpose of lighting them up the staircase. 

The sudden light spread from the altar failed not to make 
the Emperor and the Princesses visible to the mournful group 
which approached through the hall. All halted— all were 
silent. It was a meeting, as the Princess has expressed her- 
self in her historical work, such as took place betwixt Ulysses 
and the inhabitants of the other world, who, when they tasted 
of the blood of his sacrifices, recognized him indeed, but with 
empty lamentations, and gestures feeble and shadowy. The 
hymn of contrition sunk also into silence ; and, of the whole 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


360 

group, the orify figure rendered more distinct was the gigantic 
executioner, whose 1 high and furrowed forehead, as well as the 
broad steel of his axe, caught and reflected back the bright 
gleam from the altar. Alexius saw the necessity of breaking 
^ silence which ensued, lest it should give the intercessors 
for the prisoner an opportunity of renewing their entreaties. 

“ Nicephorus Briennius,” he said, with a voice which, 
although generally interrupted by a slight hesitation, which prc> 
cured him, among his enemies, the nickname of the Stutterer, 
yet, upon important occasions like the present, was so judici- 
ously tuned and balanced in its sentences, that no such defect 
was at all visible — “ Nicephorus Briennius,” he said,“ late Caesar, 
the lawful doom hath been spoken, that, having conspired 
against the life of thy rightful sovereign and affectionate father, 
Alexius Comnenus, thou shalt -suffer the appropriate sentence, 
by having thy head struck from thy body. Here, therefore, at 
the last altar of refuge I meet thee, according to the vow' of 
the immortal Constantine, for the purpose of demanding 
whether thou hast anything to allege why this doom should 
not be executed ? Even at this eleventh hour, thy tongue is 
unloosed to speak with freedom what may concern thy life. All 
is prepared in this world and in the next. Look forward be- 
yond yon archway — the block is fixed. Look behind thee, thou 
seest the axe already sharpened — thy place for good or evil in 
the next world is already determined — time flies — eternity 
approaches. If thou hast aught to say, speak it freely — if 
naught, confess the justice of thy sentence, and pass on to 
death.” 

The Emperor commenced this oration, W'ith those looks 
described by his daughter as so piercing, that they dazzled like 
lightning, and his periods, if not precisely flowing like burning 
lava, were yet the accents of a man having the power of 
absolute command, and as such produced an effect not only 
on the criminal, but also upon the Prince himself, whose watery 
eyes and faltering voice acknowledged his sense and feeling of 
the fatal import of the present moment. 

Rousing himself to the conclusion of wEat he had com- 
menced, the Emperor again demanded whether the prisoner 
had anything to say in his own defence. 

Nicephorus was not one of those hardened criminals who 
may be termed the very prodigies of history, from the coolness 
with which they contemplated the consummation of their 
crimes, whether in their own punishment, or the misfortunes 
of others. “ I have been tempted,” he said, dropping on his 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


361 


knees, “ and I have fallen. I nave nothing to allege in excuse 
of my folly and ingratitude ; but I stand prepared to die to 
expiate my guilt.” A deep sigh, almost amounting to a scream, 
was here heard, close behind the Emperor, and its cause as- 
signed by the sudden exclamation of Irene, — “My lord! my 
lord ! your daughter is gone ! ” And in fact Anna Comnena 
had sunk into her mother’s arms without either sense or 
motion. The father’s attention was instantly called to support 
his swooning child, while the unhappy husband strove with 
the guards to be permitted to go to the assistance of his wife. 
“ Give me but five minutes of that time which the law has 
abridged — let my efforts but assist in recalling her to a life 
which should be as long as her virtues and her talents deserve ; 
and then let me die at her feet, for I care not to go an inch 
beyond.” 

The Emperor, who in fact had been more astonished at the 
boldness and rashness of Nicephorus, than alarmed by his 
power, considered him as a man rather misled than misleading 
others, and felt, therefore, the full effect of this last interview. 
He was, besides, not naturally cruel, where severities were to 
be enforced under his own eye. 

“The divine and immortal Constantine,” he said, “did not, 
I am persuaded, subject his descendants to this severe trial, in 
order further to search out the innocence of the criminals, but 
rather to give to those who came after him an opportunity of 
generously forgiving a crime which could not without pardon 
— the express pardon of the Prince — escape unpunished. I 
rejoice that I am born of the willow rather than of the oak, 
and I acknowledge my weakness, that not even the safety of 
my own life, or resentment of this unhappy man’s treasonable 
machinations, have the same effect with me as the tears of my 
wife, and the swooning of my daughter. Rise up, Nicephorus 
Briennius, freely pardoned, and restored even to the rank of 
Caesar. We will direct thy pardon to be made out by the great 
Logothete, and sealed with the golden bull. For four-and- 
twenty hours thou art a prisoner, until an arrangement is made 
for preserving the public peace. Meanwhile, thou wilt remain 
under the charge of the Patriarch, who will be answerable for 
thy forthcoming. — Daughter and wife, you must now go hence 
to your own apartments; a future time will come, during which 
you may have enough of weeping and embracing, mourning 
and rejoicing. Pray heaven that I, who, having been trained 
on till I have sacrificed justice and true policy to uxorious com- 
passion and paternal tenderness of heart, may not have cause 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


362 

at last for grieving in good earnest for all the events of this 
miscellaneous drama.” 

The pardoned Caesar, who endeavored to regulate his ideas 
according to this unexpected change, found it as difficult to 
reconcile himself to the reality of his situation as Ursel to the 
face of nature, after having been long deprived of enjoying it ; 
so much do the dizziness and confusion of ideas, occasioned by 
moral and physical causes of surprise and terror, resemble each 
other in their effects on the understanding. 

At length he stammered forth a request that he might be 
permitted to go to the field with the Emperor, and divert, by 
the interposition of his own body, the traitorous blows which 
some desperate man might aim against that of his Prince, in a 
clay which was too likely to be one of danger and bloodshed. 

“ Hold there ! ” said Alexius Comnenus ; — “ we will not be- 
gin thy newly-redeemed life by renewed doubts of thine allegi- 
ance ; yet it is but fitting to remind thee, that thou art still the 
nominal and ostensible head of those who expect to take a part 
in this day’s insurrection, and it will be the safest course to 
trust its pacification to others than to thee. Go, sir, compare 
notes with the Patriarch, and merit your pardon by confessing 
to him any traitorous intentions concerning this foul conspiracy 
with which we may be as yet unacquainted. Daughter and 
wife, farewell ! I must now depart for the lists, where I have 
to speak with the traitor Achilles Tatius and the heathenish 
infidel Agelastes, if he still lives, but of whose providential 
death I hear a confirmed rumor.” 

“Yet do not go, my dearest father! ” said the Princess ; 
“but let me rather go to encourage the royal subjects in your 
behalf. The extreme kindness which you have extended tow- 
ards my guilty husband convinces me of the extent of your 
affection towards your unworthy daughter, and the greatness 
of the sacrifice which you have made to her almost childish 
affection for an ungrateful man who put your life in danger.” 

“That is to say, daughter,” said the Emperor, smiling, 
“that the pardon of your husband is a boon which has lost its 
merit when it is granted. Take my advice, Anna, and think 
otherwise; wives and their husbands ought in prudence to for- 
get their offences towards each other as soon as human nature 
will permit them. Life is too short, and conjugal tranquillity too 
uncertain, to admit of dwelling long upon such irritating "sub- 
jects. To your apartments, Princesses, and prepare the scarlet 
buskins, and the embroidery which is displayed on the cuffs 
and collars of the Caesar’s robe, indicative of his high rank. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


&3 

He must not be seen without them on the morrow. — Reverend 
father, I remind you once more that the Caesar is in your per- 
sonal custody from this moment until to-morrow at the same 
hour.” 

They parted ; the Emperor repairing to put himself at the 
head of his Varangian guards— the Caesar, under the superin- 
tendence of the Patriarch, withdrawing into the interior of the 
Blacquernal Palace, where Nicephorus Briennius was under the 
necessity of “ unthreading the rude eye of Rebellion,” and 
throwing such lights as were in his power upon the progress of 
the conspiracy. 

“ Agelastes,” he said, “Achilles Tatius, and Hereward the 
Varangian, were the persons principally entrusted in its progress. 
But whether they had been all true to their engagements, he did 
not pretend to be assured.” 

In the female apartments there was a violent discussion 
betwixt Anna Comnena and her mother. The Princess had un- 
dergone during the day many changes of sentiment and feeling ; 
and though they had finally united themselves into one strong 
interest in her husband’s favor, yet no sooner was the fear of 
his punishment removed, than the sense of his ungrateful be- 
havior began to revive. She became sensible also that a woman 
of her extraordinary attainments, who had been by a universal 
course of flattery disposed to entertain a very high opinion of 
her own consequence, made rather a poor figure when she had 
been the passive subject of a long series of intrigues, by which 
she was destined to be disposed of in one way or the other, 
according to the humor of a set of subordinate conspirators, 
who never so much as dreamed of regarding her as a being 
capable of forming a wish in her own behalf, or even yielding or 
refusing a consent. Her father’s authority over her, and right 
to dispose of her, was less questionable ; but even then it was 
something derogatory to the dignity of a Princess born in the 
purple — an authoress besides, and giver of immortality — to be, 
without her own consent, thrown, as it were, at the head now 
of one suitor, now of another, however mean or disgusting, 
whose alliance could for the time benefit the Emperor. The 
consequence of these moody reflections was, that Anna Comnena 
deeply toiled in spirit for the discovery of some means by 
which she might assert her sullied dignity, and various were the 
expedients which she revolved. 


3^4 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-SECOND. 

But now the hand of fate is on the curtain, 

And brings the scene to light. 

Don Sebastian. 

The gigantic trumpet of the Varangians sounded its loudest 
note of march, and the squadrons of the faithful guards, 
sheathed in complete mail, and enclosing in their centre the 
person of their Imperial master, set forth upon their procession 
through the streets of Constantinople. The form of Alexius, 
glittering in his splendid armor, seemed no unmeet central 
point for the force of an empire ; and while the citizens crowded 
in the train of him and his escort, there might be seen a visible 
difference between those who came with the premeditated in- 
tention of tumult, and the greater part, who, like the multitude 
of every great city, thrust each other and shout for rapture on 
account of any cause for which a crowd may be collected to- 
gether. The hope of the conspirators was lodged chiefly in the 
Immortal guards, who were levied principally for the defence 
of Constantinople, partook of the general prejudices of the 
citizens, and had been particularly influenced by those in favor 
of Ursel, by whom, previous to his imprisonment, they had 
themselves been commanded. The conspirators had deter' 
mined that those of this body who were considered as most 
discontented, should early in the morning take possession of 
the posts in the lists most favorable for their purpose of 
assaulting the Emperor’s person. But in spite of all efforts 
short of actual violence, for which the time did not seem to 
be come, they found themselves disappointed in this purpose, 
by parties of the Varangian .guards, planted with apparent 
carelessness, but in fact, with perfect skill, for the prevention 
of their enterprise. Somewhat confounded at perceiving that 
a design, which they could not suppose to be suspected, was, 
nevertheless, on every part controlled and counter-checked, the 
conspirators began to look for the principal persons of their 
own party, on whom they depended for orders in this emer- 
gency ; but neither the Ctesar nor Agelastes was to be seen, 
whether in the lists or on the military march from Constanti- 
nople ; and though Achilles Tatius rode in the latter assembly, 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


365 

yet it might be clearly observed that he was rather attending 
upon the Protospathaire, than assuming that independence as 
an officer which he loved to affect. 

In this manner, as the Emperor with his glittering bands 
approached the phalanx of Tancred and his followers, who were 
drawn up, it will be remembered, upon a rising cape between 
the city and the lists, the main body of the Imperial procession 
deflected in some degree from the straight road, in order to 
march past them without interruption ; while the Protospa- 
thaire and the Acolyte passed, under the escort of a band of 
Varangians, to bear the Emperor’s inquiries to Prince Tancred, 
concerning the purpose of his being there with his band. The 
short march was soon performed — the large trumpet which 
attended the two officers sounded a parley, and Tancred him- 
self, remarkable for that personal beauty which Tasso has pre- 
ferred to any of the crusaders, except Rinaldo d’Este, the 
creature of his own poetical imagination, advanced to parley 
With them. 

“ The Emperor of Greece,” said the Protospathaire to Tan- 
cred, “ requires the Prince of Otranto to show, by the two high 
officers who shall deliver him this message, with what purpose 
he has returned, contrary to his oath, to the right side of these 
straits ; assuring Prince Tancred, at the same time, that nothing 
will so much please the Emperor, as to receive an answer not 
at variance with his treaty with the Duke of Bouillon, and the 
oath which was taken by the crusading nobles and their sol- 
diers ; since that would enable the Emperor, in conformity to his 
own wishes, by his kind reception of Prince Tancred and his 
troop, to show how high is his estimation of the dignity of the 
one, and the bravery of both — We wait an answer.” 

The tone of the message had nothing in it very alarming, 
and its substance cost Prince Tancred very little trouble to 
answer. “ The cause,” he said, “ of the Prince of Otranto ap- 
pearing here with fifty lances, is this cartel, in which a combat 
is appointed betwixt Nicephorus Briennius, called the Csesar, 
a high member of this empire, and a worthy knight of great 
fame, the partner of the Pilgrims who have taken the Cross, 
in their high vow to rescue Palestine from the infidels. The 
name of the said Knight is the redoubted Robert of Paris. It 
becomes, therefore, an obligation, indispensable upon the 
Holy Pilgrims of the Crusade, to send one chief of their num- 
ber, with a body of men-at-arms, sufficient to see, as is usual, 
fair play between the combatants. That such is their intention 
may be seen from their sending no more than fifty lances, with 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


366 

their furniture and following ; whereas it would have cost them 
no trouble to have have detached ten times the number, had they 
nourished any purpose of interfering by force, or disturbing 
the fair combat which is about to take place. The Prince of 
Otranto, therefore, and his followers, will place themselves at 
the disposal of the Imperial Court, and witness the proceedings 
of the combat, with the most perfect confidence that the rules 
of fair battle will be punctually observed.” 

The two Grecian officers transmitted this reply to the Em- 
peror, who heard it with pleasure, and, immediately proceeding 
to act upon the principle which he had laid down, of main- 
taining peace, if possible, with the crusaders, named Prince 
Tancred with the Protospathaire as Field Marshals of the 
lists, fully empowered, under the Emperor, to decide all the 
terms of the combat, and to have recourse to Alexius himself 
where their opinions disagreed. This was made known to the 
assistants, who were thus prepared for the entry into the lists 
of the Grecian officer and the Italian Prince in full armor, 
while a proclamation announced to all the spectators their 
solemn office. The same annunciation commanded the assist- 
ants of every kind to clear a convenient part of the seats which 
surrounded the lists on one side, that it might serve for the 
accommodation of Prince Tancred’s followers. 

Achilles Tatius, who was a heedful observer of all these 
passages, saw with alarm, that by the last collocation the armed 
Latins were interposed between the Immortal Guards and the 
discontented citizens, which made it most probable that the 
conspiracy was discovered, and that Alexius found he had a 
good right to reckon upon the assistance of Tancred and his 
forces in the task of suppressing it. This, added to the cold 
and caustic manner in which the Emperor communicated his 
commands to him, made the Acolyte of opinion that his best 
chance of escape from the danger in which he was now placed 
was, that the whole conspiracy should fall to the ground, and 
that the day should pass without the least attempt to shake the 
throne of Alexius Comnenus. Even then it continued highly 
doubtful whether a despot so wily and so suspicious as the 
Emperor, would think it sufficient to rest satisfied with the pri- 
vate knowledge of the undertaking, and its failure, with which 
he appeared to be possessed, without putting into exercise the 
bow-strings and the blinding-irons of the mutes of the interior. 
There was, however, little possibility either of flight or of 
resistance. The least attempt to withdraw himself from the 
neighborhood of those faithful followers of the Emperor, per 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


367 

sonal foes of his own, by whom he was gradually and more 
closely surrounded, became each moment more perilous, andi 
more certain to provoke a rupture, which it was the interest of 
the weaker party to delay, with whatever difficulty. And while 
the soldiers under Achilles’ immediate authority seemed still 
to treat him as their superior officer, and appeal to him: for 
the word of command, it became more and more evident that 
the slightest degree of suspicion which should be excited, would 
be the instant signal for his being placed under arrest. With 
a trembling heart, therefore, and eyes dimmed by the powerful 
idea of soon parting with the light of day, and all that it 
made visible, the Acolyte saw himself condemned to watch the 
turn of circumstances over which he could have no influence,, 
and to content himself with waiting the result of a drama, in. 
which his own life was concerned, although the piece was. 
played by others. Indeed, it seemed as if through the whole 
assembly some signal was waited for,, which no one was ira 
readiness to give. 

The discontented citizens and soldiers looked in vain for 
Agelastes and the Caesar, and when they observed the condition 
of Achiiles Tatius, it seemed such as rather to express doubt 
and consternation, than to give encouragement to the hopes, 
they had entertained. Many of the lower classes, however, felt 
too secure in their own insignificance to fear the personal con- 
sequences of a tumult, and were desirous, therefore, to provoke 
the disturbance, which seemed hushing itself to- sleep. 

A hoarse murmur, which attained almost the importance of 
a shout, exclaimed, — “ Justice, justice ! — Ursel, Ursel ! — The 
rights of the Immortal Guards ! ” etc. At this the trumpet of 
the Varangians awoke, and its tremendous tones were heard to> 
peal loudly over the whole assembly,, as the voice of its pre- 
siding deity. A dead silence prevailed in the multitude, and 
the voice of a herald announced, in the name of Alexius Com- 
nenus, his sovereign will and pleasure. 

“ Citizens of the Roman Empire, your complaints, stirred 
up by factious men, have reached the ear of your Emperor 
you shall yourselves be witness to his power of gratifying his. 
people. At your request, and before your own sight, the visual 
ray which hath been quenched shall be re-illumined — the mind 
whose efforts were restricted to the imperfect supply of in- 
dividual wants shall be again extended, if such is the owner’s 
will, to the charge of an ample Theme or division of the empire. 
Political jealousy, more hard to receive conviction than the 
blind to receive sight, shall yield itself conquered, by the Em- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


'368 

peror’s paternal love of his people, and his desire to give them 
satisfaction. Ursel, the darling of your wishes, supposed to be 
long dead, or at least believed to exist in blinded seclusion, is 
restored to you well in health, clear in eyesight, and possessed 
of every faculty necessary to adorn the Emperor’s favor, or 
merit the affection of the people.” 

As the herald thus spoke, a figure, which had hitherto stood 
shrouded behind some officers of the interior, now stepped 
forth, and flinging from him a dusky veil, in which he was 
wrapt, appeared in a dazzling scarlet garment, of which the 
sleeves and buskins displayed those ornaments which expressed 
a rank nearly adjacent to that of the Emperor himself. He 
held in his hand a silver truncheon, the badge of delegated 
command over the Immortal Guards, and, kneeling before the 
Emperor, presented it to his hands, intimating a virtual resig- 
nation of the command which it implied. The whole assembly 
were electrified at the appearance of a person long supposed 
either dead, or by cruel means rendered incapable of public 
trust. Some recognized the man whose appearance and 
features were not easily forgot, and gratulated him upon his 
most unexpected return to the service of his country. Others 
stood suspended in amazement, not knowing whether to trust 
their eyes, while a few determined malcontents eagerly pressed 
upon the assembly an allegation that the person presented as 
Ursel was only a counterfeit, and the whole a trick of the 
Emperor. 

“Speak to them, noble Ursel,” said the Emperor. ‘Tell 
tnem, that if I have sinned against thee, it has been because I 
was deceived, and that my disposition to make thee amends is 
as ample as ever was my purpose of doing thee wrong.” 

“Friends and countrymen,” said Ursel, turning himselt to 
the assembly, “his Imperial Majesty permits me to offer my 
assurance, that if in any former part of my life I have suffered 
at his hand, it is more than wiped out by the feelings of a 
moment so glorious as this ; and that I am well satisfied, from 
the present instant, to spend what remains of my life in the 
service of the most generous and beneficent of sovereigns, or, 
with his permission, to bestow it in preparing, by devotional 
exercises, for an infinite immortality to be spent in the society 
of saints and angels. Whichever choice I shall make, I reckon 
that you, my beloved countrymen, who have remembered me 
so kindly during years of darkness and captivity, will not fail 
to afford me the advantage of your prayers.” 

This sudden apparition j>f the long-lost Ursel had too much 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


369 

of that which elevates and surprises not to captivate the multi- 
tude, and they sealed their reconciliation with three tremendous 
shouts, which are said so to have shaken the air, that birds, 
incapable of sustaining themselves, sunk down exhausted out 
of their native element. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-THIRD. 


What, leave the combat out ! ” exclaimed the knight. 

“ Yea ! or we must renounce the Stagyrite. 

So large a crowd the stage will ne’er contain.” 

— “ Then build a new, or act it on a plain.” 

Pops. 

The sounds of the gratulating shout had expanded over the 
distant shores of the Bosphorus by mountain and forest, and 
died at length in the farthest echoes, when the people, in the 
silence which ensued, appeared to ask each other what next 
scene was about to adorn a pause so solemn and a stage so 
august. The pause would probably have soon given place to 
some new clamor, for a multitude, from whatever cause as- 
sembled, seldom remains long silent, had not a new signal 
from the Varangian trumpet given notice of a fresh purpose to 
solicit their attention. The blast had something in its tone 
spirit-stirring and yet melancholy, partaking both of the 
character of a point of war, and of the doleful sounds which 
might be chosen to announce an execution of peculiar solem- 
nity. Its notes were high and widely extended, and prolonged 
and long dwelt upon, as if the brazen clamor had been waked 
by something more tremendous than the lungs of mere mortals. 

The multitude appeared to acknowledge these awful sounds, 
which were indeed such as habitually solicited their attention 
to Imperial edicts of melancholy import, by which rebellions 
were announced, dooms of treason discharged, and other tid- 
ings of a great and affecting import intimated to the people of 
Constantinople. When the trumpet had in its turn ceased, with 
its thrilling and doleful notes, to agitate the immense assembly, 
the voice of the herald again addressed them. 

It announced in a grave and affecting strain, that it some- 
times chanced how the people failed in their duty to a sovereign, 
who was unto them as a father, and how it became the painful 
duty of the prince to use the rod of correction rather than the 
live sceptre of mercy. 


37 ° 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


“ Fortunate,” continued the herald, “ it is, when the su- 
preme Deity, having taken on himself the preservation of a 
throne, in beneficence and justice resembling his own, has also 
assumed the most painful task of his earthly delegate, by pun- 
ishing those whom his unerring judgment acknowledges as most 
guilty, and leaving to his substitute the more agreeable task of 
pardoning such of those as art has misled, and treachery hath 
involved in its snares. 

“ Such being the case, Greece and its accompanying Themes 
are called upon to listen and learn that a villain, namely Age- 
lastes, who had insinuated himself into the favor of the Empe- 
ror, by affectation of deep knowledge and severe virtue, had 
formed a treacherous plan for the murder of the Emperor Alex- 
ius Comnenus, and a revolution in the state. This person, 
who, under pretended wisdom, hid the doctrines of a heretic 
and the vices of a sensualist, had found proselytes to his doc- 
trines even among the Emperor’s household, and those persons 
who were most bound to him, and down to the lower order, to 
excite the last of whom were dispersed a multitude of forged 
rumors, similar to those concerning Ursel’s death and blind- 
ness, of which your own eyes have witnessed the falsehood.” 

The people, who had hitherto listened in silence, upon this 
appeal broke forth in a clamorous assent. They had scarcely 
been again silent, ere the iron-voiced herald continued his proc- 
lamation. 

“ Not Korah, Dathan, and Abiram,” he said, “ had more 
justly, or more directly, fallen under the doom of an offended 
Deity, than this villain, Agelastes. The steadfast earth gaped 
to devour the apostate sons of Israel, but the termination of 
this wretched man’s existence has been, as far as can now be 
known, by the direct means of an evil spirit, whom his own 
arts had evoked into the upper air. By the spirit, as would ap- 
pear by the testimony of a noble lady, and other females, who 
witnessed the termination of his life, Agelastes was strangled, 
a fate well becoming his odious crimes. Such a death, even of 
a guilty man, must, indeed, be most painful to the human feel- 
ings of the Emperor, because it involves suffering beyond this 
world. But the awful catastrophe carries with it this comfort, 
that it absolves the Emperor from the necessity of carrying any 
farther a vengeance which Heaven itself seems to have limited 
to the exemplary punishment of the principal conspirator. 
Some changes of offices and situations shall be made, for the 
sake of safety and good order ; but the secret who had or who 
had not been concerned in this awful crime, shall sleep in the 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


37 * 

bosoms of the persons themselves implicated, since the Emperor 
is determined to dismiss their offence from his memory, as the 
effect of a transient delusion. Let all, therefore, who now hear 
me, whatever consciousness they may possess of a knowledge 
of what was this day intended, return to their houses, assured 
that their own thoughts will be their only punishment. Let 
them rejoice that Almighty goodness has saved them from the 
meditations of their own hearts, and, according to the affecting 
language of Scripture, — ‘ Let them repent and sin no more, lest 
a worse thing befall them.’ ” 

The voice of the herald then ceased, and was again an- 
swered by the shouts of the audience. These were unanimous ; 
for circumstances contributed to convince the malcontent party 
that they stood at the sovereign’s mercy, and the edict that 
they heard having shown his acquaintance with their guilt, it 
lay at his pleasure to let loose upon them the strength of the 
Varangians, while, from the terms on which it had pleased him 
to receive Tancred, it was probable that the Apuleian forces 
were also at his disposal. 

The voices, therefore, of the bulky Stephanos, of Harpax 
the centurion, and other rebels, both of the camp and city, 
were the first to thunder forth their gratitude for the clemency 
of the Emperor, and their thanks to Heaven for his preserva- 
tion. 

The audience, reconciled to the thoughts of the discovered 
and frustrated conspiracy, began meantime, according to their 
custom, to turn themselves to the consideration of the matter 
which had more avowedly called them together, and private 
whispers, swelling by degrees into murmurs, began to express 
the dissatisfaction of the citizens at being thus long assembled, 
without receiving any communication respecting the announced 
purpose of their meeting. 

Alexius was not slow to perceive the tendency of their 
thoughts ; and, on a signal from his hand, the trumpets blew 
a point of war, in sounds far more lively than those which had 
prefaced the Imperial edict. “ Robert, Count of Paris,” then 
said a herald, “ art thou here in thy place, or by knightly proxy, 
to answer the challenge brought against thee by his Imperial 
Highness Nicephorus Briennius, Caesar of this empire ? ” 

The Emperor conceived himself to have equally piovided 
against the actual appearance at this call of either of the parties 
named, and had prepared an exhibition of another kind, 
namely, certain cages tenanted by wild animals, which being 
now loosened should do their pleasure with each other in tho 


COUNT ROBERT OF BARIS. 


372 

eyes of the assembly. His astonishment and confu sion, there 
fore, were great, when, as the last note of the pioclamation 
died in the echo, Count Robert of Paris stood forth, armed 
cap-a-pie, his mailed charger led behind him from within the 
curtained enclosure at one end of the lists, as if ready to mount 
at the signal of the marshal. 

The alarm and the shame that were visible in every counte- 
nance near the Imperial presence when no Caesar came forth 
in like fashion to confront the formidable Frank, were not of 
long duration. Hardly had the style and title of the Count of 
Paris been duly announced by the heralds, and their second 
summons of his antagonist uttered in due form, when a person, 
dressed like one of the Varangian Guards, sprung into the 
lists, and announced himself as ready to do battle in the name 
and place of the Cassar Nicephorus Briennius, and for the 
honor of the empire. 

Alexius, with the utmost joy, beheld this unexpected assist- 
ance, and readily gave his consent to the bold soldier who stood 
thus forward in the hour of utmost need, to take upon himself 
the dangerous office of champion. He the more readily ac- 
quiesced, as, from the size and appearance of the soldier, and 
the gallant bearing he displayed, he had no doubt of his in- 
dividual person, and fully confided in his valor. But Prince 
Tancred interposed his opposition. 

“The lists,” he said, “were only open to knights and 
nobles ; or, at any rate, men were not permitted to meet therein 
who were not of some equality of birth and blood ; nor could 
he remain a silent witness where the laws of chivalry are in 
such respects forgotten.” 

“Let Count Robert of P aris,” said the Varangian, “look 
upon my countenance, and say whether he has not, by premise, 
removed all objection to our contest which might be founded 
upon an inequality of condition, and let him be judge himself, 
whether, by meeting me in this field, he will do more than 
comply with a compact which he has long since become bound 
by.” 

Count Robert, upon this appeal, advanced, and acknowl- 
edged, without further debate, that, notwithstanding their dif- 
ference of rank, he held himself bound by his solemn word to 
give this valiant soldier a meeting in the field. That he re- 
gretted, on account of this gallant man’s eminent virtues, and 
the high services he had received at his hands, that they should 
now stand upon terms of such bloody arbitration ; but since 
nothing was more common, than that the fate of war called on 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


373 

friends to meet each other in mortal combat, he would not 
shrink from the engagement he had pledged himself to ; nor 
did he think his quality in the slightest degree infringed or 
diminished, by meeting in battle a warrior so well known and of 
such good account as Here ward, the brave Varangian. He 
added, that “ he willingly admitted that the combat should take 
place on foot, and with the battle axe, which was the ordinary 
weapon of the Varangian guard. ” 

Hereward had stood still, almost like a statue, while this 
discourse passed ; but when the Count of Paris had made this 
speech, he inclined himself towards him with a graceful obei- 
sance, and expressed himself honored and gratified by the 
manly manner in which the Count acquitted himself, according 
to his promise, with complete honor and fidelity. 

“ What we are to do,” said Count Robert, with a sigh of 
regret, which even his love of battle could not prevent, “ let us 
do quickly ; the heart may be affected, but the hand must do 
its duty.” 

Hereward assented, with the additional remark, “.Let us 
then lose no more time, which is already flying fast.” And, 
grasping his axe, he stood prepared for combat. 

“ I also am ready,” said Count Robert of Paris, taking the 
same weapon from a Varangian soldier, who stood by the lists. 
Both were immediately upon the alert, nor did further forms or 
circumstances put off the intended duel. 

The first blows were given and parried with great caution, 
and Prince Tancred and others thought that on the part of 
Count Robert the caution was much greater than usual ; but, 
in combat, as in food, the appetite increases with the exercise. 
The fiercer passions began, as usual, to awaken with the clash 
of arms and the sense of deadly blows, some of which were 
made with great fury on either side, and parried with consider- 
able difficulty, and not so completely but that blood flowed on 
both their parts. The Greeks looked with astonishment on a 
single combat, such as they had seldom witnessed, and held 
their breath as they beheld the furious blows dealt by either 
warrior, and expected with each stroke the annihilation of one 
or other of the combatants. As yet their strength and agility 
seemed somewhat equally matched, although those who judged 
with more pretension to knowledge, were of opinion, that Count 
Robert spared putting forth some part of the military skill for 
which he was celebrated ; and the remark was generally made 
and allowed, that he had surrendered a great advantage by not 
insisting upon his right to fight upon horseback. On the other 


COUNT ROBERT OF FARTS. 


374 

hand, it was the general opinion that the gallant Varangian 
omitted to take advantage of one or two opportunities afforded 
him ty the heat of Count Robert’s temper, who obviously was 
incei seJ at the duration of the combat. 

Accident at length seemed about to decide what had been 
hitherto an equal contest. Count Robert, making a feint on 
one side of his antagonist, struck him on the other, which was 
uncovered, with the edge of his weapon, so that the Varangian 
reeled, and seemed in the act of falling to the earth. 1 he 
usual sound made by spectators at the sight of any painful or 
unpleasant circumstance, by drawing the breath between the 
teeth, was suddenly heard to pass through the assembly, while 
a female voice loud and eagerly exclaimed, — “ Count Robert of 
Paris t — forget not this day that thou owest a life to Heaven 
and me.” The Count was in the act of again seconding his 
blow, with what effect could hardly be judged, when this cry 
reached his ears, and apparently took away his disposition for 
farther combat. 

“ I acknowledge the debt,” he said, sinking his battle-axe, 
and retreating two steps from his antagonist, who stood in as- 
tonishment, scarcely recovered from the stunning effect of the 
blow by which he was so nearly prostrated. He sank the blade 
of his battle-axe in imitation of his antagonist, and seemed to 
wait in suspense what was to be the next process of the com- 
bat. “ I acknowledge my debt,” said the valiant Count of 
Paris, “alike to Bertha of Britain and to the Almighty, who has 
preserved me from the crime of ungrateful blood-guiltiness. — 
You have seen the fight, gentlemen,” turning to Tancred and 
his chivalry, “and can testify, on your honor, that it has been 
maintained fairly on both sides, and without advantage on 
either. I presume my honorable antagonist has by this time 
satisfied the desire which brought me under his challenge, and 
which certainly had no taste in it of personal or private quarrel 
On my part, I retain towards him such a sense of personal 
obligation as would render my continuing this combat, unless 
compelled to it by self-defence, a shameful and sinful action.” * 

Alexius gladly embraced the terms of truce, which he was 
far from expecting, and threw down his warder, in signal that 
the duel was ended. Tancred, though somewhat surprised, 
and perhaps even scandalized, that a private soldier of the Em- 
peror’s guard should have so long resisted the utmost efforts of 
so approved a knight, could not but own that the combat had 


* Note £. Chronicle of L»l«in, 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARTS. 


375 

been fought with perfect fairness and equality, and decided 
upon terms dishonorable to neither party. The Count’s 
character being well known and established amongst the cru- 
saders, they were compelled to believe that some motive of a 
most potent nature formed the principle upon which, very con- 
trary to his general practice, he had proposed a cessation of 
the combat before it was brought to a deadly, or at least to a 
decisive, conclusion. The edict of the Emperor upon the occa- 
sion, therefore, passed into a law, acknowledged by the assent 
of the chiefs present, and especially affirmed and gratulated by 
the shouts of the assembled spectators. 

But perhaps the most interesting figure in the assembly was 
that of the bold Varangian, arrived so suddenly at a promotion 
of military renown, which the extreme difficulty he had expe- 
rienced in keeping his ground against Count Robert had pre- 
vented him from anticipating, although his modesty had not 
diminished the indomitable courage with which he maintained 
the contest. He stood in the middle of the lists, his face ruddy 
with the exertion of the combat, and not less so from the 
modest consciousness proper to the plainness and simplicity of 
his character, which was disconcerted by finding himself the 
central point of the gaze of the multitude. 

“ Speak to me, my soldier,” said Alexius, strongly affected 
by the gratitude wffiich he felt was due to Here ward upon so 
singular an occasion, “ speak to thine Emperor as his superior, 
for such thou art at this moment, and tell him if there is any 
manner, even at the expense of half his kingdom, to atone for 
his own life saved, and what is yet dearer, for the honor of 
his country which thou hast so manfully defended and pre- 
served ? ” 

“ My Lord,” answ-ered Herew r ard, “your Imperial Highness 
values my poor services over highly, and ought to attribute 
them to the noble Count of Paris, first, for his condescending 
to accept of an antagonist so mean in quality as myself ; and 
next, in generously relinquishing victory, when he might have 
achieved it by an additional blow* ; for I here confess before 
your Majesty, my brethren, and the assembled Grecians, that 
my power of protracting the combat w r as ended, when the gal- 
lant Count, by his generosity, put a stop to it.” 

“ Do not thyself that wrong, brave man,” * said Count 
Robert ; “ for I vow to Our Lady of the Broken Lances, that 
the combat was yet within the undetermined doom of Prov- 
idence, when the pressure of my own feelings rendered me in- 
capable of continuing it, to the necessary harm, perhaps to 


) 

376 COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS . 

the mortal damage, of an antagonist to whom I owe so much 
kindness. Choose, therefore, the recompense which the 
generosity of thy Emperor offers in a manner so just and 
grateful, and fear not lest mortal voice pronounces that reward 
unmerited which Robert of Paris shall avouch with his sword 
to have been gallantly won upon his own crest. ,, 

“ You are too great, my lord, and too noble,” answered the 
Anglo-Saxon, “ to be gainsaid by such as I am, and I must not 
awaken new strife between us by contesting the circumstances 
under which our combat so suddenly closed, nor would it be 
wise or prudent in me further to contradict you. My noble 
Emperor generously offers me the right of naming what he calls 
my recompense ; but let not his generosity be dispraised, al- 
though it is from you, my lord, and not from his Imperial 
Plighness, that I am to ask a boon, to me the dearest to which 
my voice can give utterance.” 

“ And that,” said the Count, “has reference to Bertha, the 
faithful attendant of my wife ? ” 

“ Even so,” said Hereward ; “ it is my proposal to request 
my discharge from the Varangian guard, and permission to 
share in your lordship’s pious and honorable vow for the 
recovery of Palestine, with liberty to fight under your honored 
banner, and permission from time to time to recommend my 
love-suit to Bertha, the attendant of the Countess of Paris, and 
the hope that it may find favor in the eyes of her noble lord 
and lady. I may thus finally hope to be restored to a coun- 
try, which I have never ceased to love over the rest of the 
world.” 

“ Thy service, noble soldier,” said the Count, “ shall be as 
acceptable to me as that of a born earl ; nor is there an oppor- 
tunity of acquiring honor which I can shape for thee, to which, 
as it occurs, I will not gladly prefer thee. I will not boast of 
what interest I have with the King of England, but something 
I can do with him, and it shall be strained to the uttermost to 
settle thee in thine own beloved native country.” 

The Emperor then spoke. “ Bear witness, heaven and 
earth, and you my faithful subjects, and you my gallant allies; 
above all, you my bold and true Varangian Guard, that we 
would rather have lost the brightest jewel from our Imperial 
crown, than have relinquished the service of this true and 
faithful Anglo-Saxon. But since go he must and will, it shall 
be my study to distinguish him by such marks of beneficence 
as may make it known, through his future life, that he is the 
person to whom the Emperor Alexius Comnenus acknowledged 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


377 

a debt larger than his empire could discharge. You, my Lord 
Tancred, and your principal leaders, will sup with us this even- 
ing, and to-morrow resume your honorable and religious pur- 
pose of pilgrimage. We trust both the combatants will also 
oblige us by their presence. — Trumpets, give the signal for dis- 
mission.” 

The trumpets sounded accordingly, and the different classes 
of spectators, armed and unarmed, broke up into various 
parties, or formed into their military ranks, for the purpose of 
their return to the city. 

The screams of women suddenly and strangely raised, was 
the first thing that arrested the departure of the multitude, 
when those who glanced their eyes back, saw Sylvan, the great 
ourang-outang, produce himself in the lists, to their surprise 
and astonishment. The women, and many of the men who 
were present, unaccustomed to the ghastly look and savage ap- 
pearance of a creature so extraordinary, raised a yell of terror 
so loud, that it discomposed the animal who was the occasion 
of its being raised. Sylvan, in the course of the night, having 
escaped over the garden-wall of Agelastes, and clambered over 
the rampart of the city, found no difficulty in hiding himself in 
the lists which were in the act of being raised, having found a 
lurking-place in some dark corner under the seats of the spec- 
tators. From this he was probably dislodged by the tumult of 
the dispersing multitude, and had been compelled, therefore, to 
make an appearance in public when he least desired it, not 
unlike that of the celebrated Puliccinello, at the conclusion of 
his own drama, when he enters in mortal strife with the foul 
fiend himself, a scene which scarcely excites more terror among 
the juvenile audience, than did. the unexpected apparition of 
Sylvan among the spectators of the duel. Bows were bent, and 
javelins pointed by the braver part of the soldiery, against an 
animal of an appearance so ambiguous, and whom his uncom- 
mon size and grizzly look caused most who beheld him to sup- 
pose either the devil himself, or the apparition of some fiendish 
deity of ancient days, whom the heathens worshipped. Sylvan 
had so far improved such opportunities as had been afforded 
him, as to become sufficiently aware that the attitudes assumed 
by so many military men inferred immediate danger to his 
person, from which he hastened to shelter himself by flying to 
the protection of Hereward, with whom he had been in some 
degree familiarized. He seized him, accordingly, by the cloak, 
and, by the absurd and alarmed look of his fantastic features, 
and a certain wild and gibbering chatter, endeavored to 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


S7 8 

express his fear and to ask protection. Hereward understood 
the terrified creature, and, turning to the Emperor’s throne, 
said aloud, — “ Poor frightened being, turn thy petition, and 
gestures, and tones, to a quarter which, having to-day pardoned 
so many offences which were wilfully and maliciously schemed, 
will not be, I am sure, obdurate to such as thou, in thy half- 
reasoning capacity, mayst have been capable of committing.” 

The creature, as is the nature of its tribe, caught from 
Hereward himself the mode of applying with most effect his 
gestures and pitiable supplication, while the Emperor, notwith- 
standing the serious scene which had just passed, could not 
help laughing at the touch of comedy flung into it by this last 
incident. 

“ My trusty Hereward,” — he said aside, “ (I will not again 
call him Edward if I can help it) — thou art the refuge of the 
distressed, whether it be man or beast, and nothing that sues 
through thy intercession, while thou remainest in our service, 
shall find its supplication in vain. Do thou, good Hereward,” 
for the name was now pretty well established in his Imperial 
memory, “ and such of thy companions as know the habits of 
the creature, lead him back to his old quarters in the Blac- 
quernal ; and that done, my friend, observe that we request thy 
company, and that of thy faithful mate Bertha, to partake 
supper at our court, with our wife and daughter, and such of 
our servants and allies as we shall request to share the same 
honor. Be assured, that while thou remainest with us, there 
is no point of dignity which shall not be willingly paid to thee. 
— And do thou approach, Achilles Tatius, as much favored 
by thine Emperor as before this day dawned. What charges 
are against thee have been only whispered in a friendly ear, 
which remembers them not, unless (which Heaven forefend !) 
their remembrance is renewed by fresh offences.” 

Achilles Tatius bowed till the plume of his helmet mingled 
with the mane of his fiery horse, but held it wisest to forbear 
any answer in words, leaving his crime and his pardon to 
stand upon those general terms in which the Emperor had ex- 
pressed them. 

Once more the multitude of all ranks returned on their way 
to the city, nor did any second interruption arrest their march. 
Sylvan, accompanied by one or two Varangians, who led him 
in a sort of captivity, took his way to the vaults of the Blac- 
quernal, which were in fact his proper habitation. 

Upon the road to the city, Harpax, the notorious corporal 
of the Immortal Guards, held a discourse with one or two of 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


379 

his own soldiers, and of the citizens who had been members of 
the la^ conspiracy. 

“ So/’ said Stephanos, the prize-fighter, “ a fine affair we 
have made of it, to suffer ourselves to be all anticipated and be- 
trayed by a thick-sculled Varangian ; every chance turning 
against us as they would against Corydon, the shoemaker, if he 
were to defy me to the circus. Ursel, whose death made so 
much work, turns out not to be dead after all ; and what is worse, 
he lives not to our advantage. This fellow Hereward, who was 
yesterday no better than myself — What do I say ? better ! — 
he was a great deal worse — an insignificant nobody in every 
respect ! — is now crammed with honors, praises, and gifts, till 
he well-nigh returns what they have given him, and the Caesar 
and the Acolyte, our associates, have lost the Emperor’s love 
and confidence, and if they are suffered to survive, it must be 
like the tame domestic poultry, whom we pamper with food one 
day, that upon the next their necks may be twisted for spit or 
pot.” 

“ Stephanos,” replied the centurion, “ thy form of body fits 
thee well for the Palmstra, but thy mind is not so acutely formed 
as to detect th.it which is real from that which is only probable, 
in the political world, of which thou art now judging. Consid- 
ering the risk incurred by lending a man’s ear to a conspiracy, 
thou oughtest to reckon it a saving, in every particular, where 
he escapes with his life and character safe. This has been the 
case with Achilles Tatius and with the Caesar. They have 
remained also in their high places of trust and power, and may 
be confident that the Emperor will hardly dare to remove them 
at a future period, since the possession of the full knowledge 
of their guilt has not emboldened him to do so. Their power, 
thus left with them, is in fact ours ; nor is there a circumstance 
to be supposed, which can induce them to betray their confed- 
erates to the government. It is much more likely that they 
will remember them with the probability of renewing, at a fitter 
time, the alliance which binds them together. Cheer up thy 
noble resolution, therefore, my Prince of the Circus, and think 
that thou shalt still retain that predominant influence which 
the favorites of the amphitheatre are sure to possess over the 
citizens of Constantinople.” 

“ I cannot tell,” answered Stephanos ; “ but it gnaws at my 
heart like the worm, that dieth not, to see this beggarly foreigner 
betray the noblest blood in the land, not to mention the best 
athlete in the Palaestra, and move off not only without punish- 
ment for his treachery, but with praise honor, and preferment.” 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


380 

“ True,” said Harpax ; “ but observe, my friend, that he does 
move off to purpose. He leaves the land, quits the corps in 
which he might claim preferment and a few vain honors, being 
valued at what such trifles amount to. Hereward, in the 
course of one or two days, shall be little better than a dis- 
banded soldier, subsisting by the poor bread which he can 
obtain as a follower of this beggarly Count, or which he is 
rather bound to dispute with the infidel, by encountering with 
his battle-axe the Turkish sabres. What will it avail him amidst 
the disasters, the slaughter, and the famine of Palestine, that 
he once upon a time was admitted to supper with the Emperor ? 
We know Alexius Comnenus — he is willing to discharge, at the 
highest costs, such obligations as are incurred to men like this 
Hereward ; and believe me, I think that I see the wily despot 
shrug his shoulders in derision, when one morning he is saluted 
with the news of a battle in Palestine lost by the Crusaders, in 
which his old acquaintance has fallen a dead man. I will not 
insult thee, by telling thee how easy it might be to acquire the 
favor of a gentlewoman in waiting upon a lady of quality ; nor 
do I think it would be difficult, should that be the object of 
the prize-fighter, to acquire the property of a large baboon like 
Sylvan, which no doubt would set up as a juggler any Frank 
who had meanness of spirit to propose to gain his bread in such 
a capacity, from the alms of the starving chivalry of Europe. 
But he who can stoop to envy the lot of such a person, ought 
not to be one whose chief personal distinctions are sufficient 
to place him first in rank over all the favorites of the amphi- 
theatre.” 

There was something in this sophistical kind of reasoning 
which was but half satisfactory to the obtuse intellect of the 
prize-fighter, to whom it was addressed, although the only 
answer which he attempted was couched in this observation 

“ Ay, but noble centurion, you forget that, besides empty 
honors, this Varangian Hereward, or Edward, whichever is his 
name, is promised a mighty donative of gold.” 

“ Marry, you touch me there,” said the centurion ; “ and 
when you tell me that the promise is fulfilled, I will willingly 
agree that the Anglo-Saxon hath gained something to be envied 
for ; but while it remains in the shape of a naked promise, you 
shall pardon me, my worthv Stephanos, if I hold it of no more 
account than the mere pledges which are distributed among 
ourselves as well as to the Varangians, promising upon future 
occasions, mints of money which we are likely to receive at the 
same time with the last year’s snow. Keep up your heart, there- 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


38i 

fore, noble Stephanos, and believe not that your affairs are 
worse for the miscarriage of this day ; and let not thy gallant 
courage sink, but remembering those principles upon which it 
was called into action, believe that thy objects are not the less 
secure because fate has removed their acquisition to a more 
distant day.” The veteran and unbending conspirator, Harpax, 
thus strenghtened for some future renewal of their enterprise 
the failing spirits of Stephanos. 

After this, such leaders as were included in the invitation 
given by the Emperor, repaired to the evening meal, and, from 
the general content and complaisance expressed by Alexius and 
his guests of every description, it could little have been sup- 
posed that the day just passed over was one which had inferred 
a purpose so dangerous and treacherous. 

The absence of the Countess Brenhilda, during this event- 
ful day, created no small surprise to the Emperor and those in 
his immediate confidence, who knew her enterprising spirit, 
and the interest she must have felt in the issue of the combat. 
Bertha had made an early communication to the Count, that 
his lady, agitated with the many anxieties of the few preceding 
days, was unable to leave her apartment. The valiant knight, 
therefore, lost no time in acquainting his faithful Countess of 
his safety ; and afterwards joining those who partook of the 
banquet at the palace, he bore himself as if the least recollec- 
tion did not remain on his mind of the perfidious conduct of the 
Emperor at the conclusion of the last entertainment. He knew 
in truth, that the knights of Prince Tancred not only main- 
tained a strict watch round the house where Brenhilda remained, 
but also that they preserved a severe ward in the neighborhood 
of the Blacquernal, as well for the safety of their heroic leader, 
as for that of Count Robert, the respected companion of their 

military pilgrimage. , , ^ 

It was the general principle of the European chivalry, that 
distrust was rarely permitted to survive open quarrels, and that 
whatever was forgiven, was dismissed from their recollection, 
as unlikely to recur ; but on the present occasion there was a 
more than usual assemblage of troops, which the occurrences of 
the day had drawn together, so that the crusaders were called 
upon to be particularly watchful. 

It may be believed that the evening passed over without any 
attempt to renew the ceremonial in the council chamber of the 
Lions, which had been upon a former occasion terminated in 
such misunderstanding. Indeed it would have been lucky if 
the explanation between the mighty Emperor of Greece and 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


382 

the chivalrous Knight of Paris had taken place earlier ; for 
reflection on what had passed, had convinced the Emperor 
that the Franks were not a people to be imposed upon by pieces 
of clockwork, and similar trifles, and that what they did not 
understand was sure, instead of procuring their awe or admira- 
tion, to excite their anger and defiance. Nor had it altogether 
escaped Count Robert that the manners of the Eastern people 
were upon a different scale from those to which he had been 
accustomed ; that they neither were so deeply affected by the 
spirit of chivalry, nor, in his own language, was the worship of 
the Lady of the Broken Lances so congenial a subject of ado- 
ration. This, notwithstanding, Count Robert observed, that 
Alexius Comnenus was a wise and politic prince ; his wisdom 
perhaps too much allied to cunning, but yet aiding him to 
maintain with great address that empire over the minds of his 
subjects which was necessary for their good, and for maintaining 
his own authority. He therefore resolved to receive with 
equanimity whatever should be offered by the Emperor, either 
in civility or in the way of jest, and not again to disturb an 
understanding which might be of advantage to Christendom, by 
a quarrel founded upon misconception of terms or misapprehen- 
sion of manners. To this prudent resolution the Count of 
Paris adhered during the whole evening ; with some difficulty, 
however, since it was somewhat inconsistent with his own fiery 
and inquisitive temper, which was equally desirous to know the 
precise amount of whatever was addressed to him, and to take 
umbrage at it, should it appear in the least degree offensive, 
whether so intended or not. 


CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURTH. 

It was not until after the conquest of Jerusalem that Count 
Robert of Paris returned to Constantinople, and with his wife, 
and such proportion of his followers as the sword and pesti- 
lence had left after that bloody warfare, resumed his course to 
his native kingdom. Upon reaching Italy, the first care of the 
noble Count and Countess was to celebrate in princely style 
the marriage of Hereward and his faithful Bertha, who had 
added to their other claims upon their master and mistress, 
those acquired by Hereward’s faithful services in Palestine, 


CO UNT ROBER T OF PARIS. 383 

and no less by Bertha’s affectionate ministry to her lady in 
Constantinople. 

As to the fate of Alexius Comraenus, it may be read at large 
in the history of his daughter Anna, who has represented him 
as the hero of many a victory, achieved, says the purple-born, 
in the third chapter and fifteenth book of her history, some- 
times by his arms and sometimes by his prudence. 

“ His boldness alone has gained some battles, at other times 
his success has been won by stratagem. He has erected the 
most illustrious of his trophies by confronting danger, by com- 
bating like a simple soldier, and throwing himself bareheaded 
into the thickest of the foe. But there are others,” continues 
the accomplished lady, “ which he gained an opportunity of 
erecting by assuming the appearance of terror, and even of 
retreat. In a word, he knew alike how to triumph either in 
flight or in pursuit, and remained upright even before those 
enemies who appeared to have struck him down ; resembling 
the military implement termed the calthrop, which remains 
always upright in whatever direction it is thrown on the 
ground.” 

It would be unjust to deprive the Princess of the defence 
she herself makes against the obvious charge of partiality. 

“ I must still once more repel the reproach which some bring 
against me, as if my history was composed merely according to 
the dictates of the natural love for parents which is engraved 
in the hearts of children. In truth, it is not the effect of that 
affection which I bear to mine, but it is the evidence of matter 
of fact, which obliges me to speak as I have done. Is it not 
possible that one can have at the same time an affection for the 
memory of a father and for truth ? For myself, I have never 
directed my attempt to write history otherwise than for the 
ascertainment of the matter of fact. With this purpose I have 
taken for my subject the history of a worthy man. Is it just, 
that, by the single accident of his being the author of my birth, 
his quality of my father ought to form a prejudice against me, 
which would ruin my credit with my readers ? I have given, 
upon other occasions, proofs sufficiently strong of the ardor 
which I had for the defence of my father’s interests, which 
those that know me can never doubt ; but, on the present, I 
have been limited by the inviolable fidelity with which I respect 
the truth, which I should have felt conscious to have veiled, 
under pretence of serving the renown of my father.” — Alexiad \ 
chap. iii. book xv. 

This much we have deemed it our duty to quote, in justice 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


384 

to the fair historian ; we will extract also her description of the 
Emperor’s death, and are not unwilling to allow that the char- 
acter assigned to the Princess by our own Gibbon has in it a 
great deal of fairness and of truth. 

Notwithstanding her repeated protests of sacrificing rather 
to the exact and absolute truth than to the memory of her 
deceased parent, Gibbon remarks truly, that “ instead of the 
simplicity of style and narrative which wins a belief, an elabo- 
rate affectation of rhetoric and science betrays in every page 
the vanity of a female author. The genuine character of 
Alexius is lost in a vague constellation of virtues ; and the per- 
petual strain of panegyric and apology awakens our jealousy to 
question the veracity of the historian, and the merit of the hero. 
We cannot, however, refuse her judicious and important re- 
mark, that the disorders of the times were the misfortune and 
the glory of Alexius ; and that every calamity which can afflict 
a declining empire was accumulated on his reign by the justice 
of Heaven and the vices of his predecessors.” — Gibbon’s Roman 
Empire, vol. ix. p. 83, foot-note. 

The Princess accordingly feels the utmost assurance that a 
number of signs, which appeared in heaven and on earth, were 
interpreted by the soothsayers of the day as foreboding the 
death of the Emperor. By these means, Anna Comnera 
assigned to her father those indications of consequence, which 
ancient historians represent as necessary intimations of the 
sympathy of nature with the removal of great characters from 
the world ; but she fails not to inform the Christian reader 
that her father’s belief attached to none of these prognostics, 
and that even on the following remarkable occasion he main- 
tained his incredulity : — A splendid statue, supposed generally 
to be a relic of paganism, holding in its hand a golden sceptre, 
and standing upon a base of porphyry, was overturned by a 
tempest, and was generally believed to be an intimation of the 
death of the Emperor. This, however, he generously repelled. 
Phidias, he said, and other great sculptors of antiquity, had the 
talent of imitating the human frame with surprising accuracy ; but 
to suppose that the power of foretelling future events was reposed 
in these master-pieces of art, would be to ascribe to their 
makers the faculties reserved by the Deity for himself, when 
he says, “ It is I who kill and make alive.” During his latter 
days, the Emperor was greatly afflicted with the gout, the 
nature of which has exercised the wit of many persons of 
science as well as of Anna Comnena. The poor patient was 
so much exhausted, that when the Empress was talking of most 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


385 

eloquent persons who should assist in the composition of his 
history, he said, with a natural contempt of such vanities, 
“ The passages of my unhappy life call rather for tears and 
lamentation than for the praises you speak of.” 

A species of asthma having come to the assistance of the 
gout, the remedies of the physicians became as vain as the in- 
tercession of the monks and clergy, as well as the alms which 
were indiscriminately lavished. Two or three deep successive 
swoons gave ominous warning of the approaching blow, and 
at length was terminated the reign and life of Alexius Com- 
nenus, a prince who, with all the faults which may be imputed 
to him, still possesses a real right, from the purity of his general 
intentions, to be accounted one of the best sovereigns of the 
Lower Empire. 

For some time the historian forgot her pride of literary rank, 
and, like an ordinary person, burst into tears and shrieks, tore 
her hair, and defaced her countenance, while the Empress Irene 
cast from her her princely habits, cut off her hair, changed her 
purple buskins for black mourning shoes, and her daughter 
Mary, who had herself been a widow, took a black robe from 
one of her own wardrobes, and presented it to her mother. 

* Even in the moment when she put it on,” says Anna Com- 
nena, “ the Emperor gave up the ghost, and in that moment 
the sun of my life set.” 

We shall not pursue her lamentations farther. She upbraids 
herself that, after the death of her father, that light of the 
world, she had also survived Irene, the delight alike of the east 
and of the west, and survived her husband also. “ I am in- 
dignant,” she said, “ that my soul, suffering under such tor- 
rents of misfortune, should still deign to animate my body. 
Have I not,” said she, “ been more hard and unfeeling than 
the rocks themselves ; and is it not just that one, who could 
survive such a father and mother, and such a husband, should 
be subjected to the influence of so much calamity? But let 
me finish this history, rather than any longer fatigue my read- 
ers with my unavailing and tragical lamentation.” 

Having thus concluded her history, she adds the following 
two lines : — 


“ The learned Comnena lays her pen aside, 

What time her subject and her father died.” 

These quotations will probably give the readers as much as 

* [A ril-cv 07row jBtoroio AA^fios 6 Kom^vos 

E yda na\r) ©vya/njp Aygev AAe£i aoof.J 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


386 

they wish to know of the real character of this Imperial his- 
torian. Fewer words will suffice to dispose of the other par- 
ties who have been selected from her pages, as persons in the 
foregoing drama. 

There is very little doubt that the Count Robert of Paris, 
whose audacity in seating himself upon the throne of the Em- 
peror gives a peculiar interest to his character, was in fact a 
person of the highest rank ; being no other, as has been con- 
jectured by the learned Du Cange, than an ancestor of the 
house of Bourbon, which has so long given kings to France. 
He was a successor, it has been conceived, of the Counts of 
Paris, by whom the city was valiantly defended against the 
Normans, and an ancestor of Hugh Capet. There are several 
hypotheses upon this subject, deriving the well-known Hugh 
Capet, first, from the family of Saxony ; secondly, from St. 
Arnoul, afterwards Bishop of Altex ; third, from Nibilong ; 
fourth, from the Duke of Bavaria ; and fifth, from a natural 
son of the Emperor Charlemagne. Variously placed, but in 
each of these contested pedigrees, appears this Robert, sur- 
named the Strong, who was Count of that district, of which 
Paris was the capital, most peculiarly styled the County, or 
Isle of France. Anna Comnena, who has recorded the bold 
usurpation of the Emperor’s seat by this haughty chieftain 
has also acquainted us with his receiving a severe, if not a 
mortal wound, at the battle of Dorylaeum, owing to his neglect- 
ing the warlike instructions with which her father had favored 
him on the subject of the Turkish wars. The antiquary who 
is disposed to investigate this subject, may consult the late 
Lord Ashburnham’s elaborate Genealogy of the Royal House 
of France ; also a note of Du Cange’s on the Princess’s history, 
p. 362, arguing for the identity of her “ Robert of Paris, a 
haughty barbarian,” with the “ Robert called the Strong,” 
mentioned as an ancestor of Hugh Capet. Gibbon, vol. xi. p. 
52, may also be consulted. The French antiquary and the 
English historian seem alike disposed to find the church, called 
in the tale that of the Lady of the Broken Lances, in that dedi- 
cated to St. Drusas, or Drosin, of Soissons, who was supposed 
to have peculiar influence on the'issue of combats, and to be 
in the habit of determining them in favor of such champions as 
spent the night preceding at his shrine. 

In consideration of the sex of one of the parties concerned, 
the author has selected Our Lady of the Broken Lances as a 
more appropriate patroness than St. Drusas himself, for the 
Amazons, who were not uncommon in that age. Gaita, for 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


387 

example, the wife of Robert Guiscard, a redoubted hero, and 
the parent of a most heroic race of sons, was herself an Ama- 
zon, fought in the foremost ranks of the Normans, and is re- 
peatedly commemorated by our Imperial historian, Anna 
Comnena. 

The reader can easily conceive to himself that Robert of 
Paris distinguished himself among his brethren-at-arms, and 
fellow-crusaders. His fame resounded from the walls of An- 
tioch ; but at the battle cf Dorylaeum, he was so desperately 
wounded, as to be disabled from taking a part in the grandest 
scene of the expedition. His heroic Countess, however, en- 
joyed the great satisfaction cf mounting the walls of Jerusalem, 
and in so far discharging her own vows and those of her hus- 
band. This was the more foitunate, as the sentence of the 
physicians pronounced that the wounds of the Count had been 
inflicted by a poisoned weapon, and that complete recovery 
was only to be hoped for by having recourse to his native air. 
After some time spent in the vain hope of averting by patience 
this unpleasant alternative, Count Robert subjected himself to 
necessity, or what was represented as such, and, with his wife 
and the faithful Hereward, and all others of his followers who 
had been like himself disabled from combat, took the way to 
Europe by sea. 

A light galley, procured at a high rate, conducted them 
safely to Venice, and from that then glorious city, the moderate 
portion of spoil which had fallen to the Count’s share among 
the conquerors of Palestine, served to convey them to his own 
dominions, which, more fortunate than those of most of his 
fellow-pilgrims, had been left uninjured by their neighbors 
during the time of their proprietor’s absence on the Crusade. 
The report that the Count had lost his health, and the power 
of continuing his homage to the Lady of the Broken Lances, 
brought upon him the hostilities of one or two ambitious or 
envious neighbors, whose covetousness was, however, suffi- 
ciently repressed by the brave resistance of the Countess and 
the resolute Hereward. Less than a twelvemonth was required 
to restore the Count of Paris to his full health, and to render 
him, as formerly, the assured protector of his own vassals, and 
the subject in whom the possessors of the French throne reposed 
the utmost confidence. This latter capacity enabled Count 
Robert to discharge his debt towards Hereward in a manner 
as ample as he could have hoped or expected. Being now 
respected alike for his wisdom and h*s sagacity, as much as he 
always was for bis intrepidity and his character as a successful 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


338 

crusader, he was repeatedly employed by the Court of France 
in settling the troublesome and intricate affairs in which the 
Norman possessions of the English crown involved the rival 
nations. William Rufus was not insensible to his merit, nor 
blind to the importance of gaining his good-will ; and finding 
out his anxiety that Hereward should be restored to the land 
of his fathers, he took, or made an opportunity, by the forfeiture 
of some rebellious noble, of conferring upon our Varangian a 
large district adjacent to the New Forest, being part of the 
scenes which his father chiefly frequented, and where it is said 
the descendants of the valiant squire and his Bertha have sub- 
sisted for many a long year, surviving turns of time and chance, 
which are in general fatal to the continuance of more distin- 
guished families. 


NOTES TO COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


■ ♦ 

Note A, p. 34 . — Constantinople. 

The impression which the imperial city was calculated to make on such visitors 
as the Crusaders of the West, is given by the ancient French chronicler Viliehar* 
douin, who was present at the capture of a. d. 1203. “When we had come,” he 
sajs, within three leagues, to a certain Abbey, then we could plainly survey Con* 
stantinople. There the ships and the galleys came to anchor ; and much did they 
who had never been in that quarter before, gaze upon the city. That such a city 
could be in the world they had never conceived, and they were never weary of staring 
at the high walls and towers with which it was entirely encompassed, the rich palaces 
and lofty churches, of which there were so many that no one could have believed it 
it he had not seen with his own eyes that city, the Queen of all cities. And know 
that there was not so bold a heart there, that it did not feel some terror at the 
strength of Constantinople.” — Chap. 66. 

Again, *• And now many of those of the host went to see Constantinople within, 
and the rich palaces and stately churches, of which it possesses so many, and the 
riches of the place, which are such as no other city ever equalled. I need not speak 
of the sanctuaries, which are as many as are in all the world beside.” — Chap. 100. 


Note B, p. 38 . — Varangians. 

Ducange has poured forth a tide of learning on this curious subject, which will be 
found in his Notes on Villehardouin’s Constantinople under the French Emperors.— 
Paris, 1637, folio, p 196. Gibbon’s History may also be consulted, vol. x. p. 231. 

Villehardouin, in describing the siege of Constantinople, a. d. 1203, says, “’Li 
murs fu mult garnis d’Anglois et de Danois,” — hence the dissertation of Ducange 
here quoted, and several articles besides in his Glossarium as Varangi , Warengangi, 
etc. The etymology of the name is left uncertain, though the German fort-ganger y 
i.e., forth-goer, wanderer, exile, seems the most probable. The term cccurs in vari- 
ous Italian and Sicilian documents, anterior to the establishment of the Varangian 
Guards at Constantinople, and collected by Mura tori : as, for instance, in an edict of 
one of the Lombard kings, “ Omnes Warengangi, qui de exteris finibus in regni nos- 
tri finibus advenerint, seque sub scuto potestatis nostiae subdiderint, legibus nostris 
Longobardorum vivere debeant,” — and in another, “ De Warengangis, nobilibus, me- 
diocribus, et rusticis hominibus, qui usque nunc in terra vestrS fugiti sunt, habeatis 
eos.’’ — Muralori , vol. ii. p. 261. 

With regard to the origin of the Varangian Guard, the most distinct testimony is 
that of Ordericus Vittalis, who says, “ When therefore the English had lost their lib- 
erty, they turned themselves with zeal to discover the means of throwing off the un- 
accustomed yoke. Some fled to Sueno, King of the Danes, to excite him to the re- 
covery of the inheritance of his grandfather, Canute. Not a few fled into exile in 
other regions, either from the mere desire of escaping from under the Norman rule, 
or in the hope of acquiring wealth, and so being one day in a condition to renew the 
struggle at home. Some of these, in the bloom of youth, penetrated into a far dis- 
tant land, and offered themselves to the military service of the Constantinopolitau 
Emperor — that wise prince, against whom Robert Guiscard, Duke of Apulia, had 
then raised all his forces. The English exiles were favorably received, and opposed 


NOTES TO COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


39 ° 

in battle to the Normans, for whose encounter the Greeks themselves were too weak 
Alexius began to build a town for the English, a little above Constantinople, at a 
place called Cheveloi, but the trouble of the Normans from Sicily still increasing, he 
soon recalled them to the capital, and intrusted the principal palace with all its treas- 
ures to their keeping. This was the method in which the Saxon English found theii 
way to Ionia, where they still remain, highly valued by the Emperor and the peo- 
ple.” — Book iv. p. 508. 


Note C, p. 138 . — Labarum. 

Ducange fills half-a-column of his huge page with the mere names of the authors 
who have written at length on the Labarum , or principal standard of the empire for 
the time of Constantine. It consisted of a spear of silver, or plated with that metal, 
having suspended from a cross-beam below the spoke a small square silken banner, 
adorned with portraits of the reigning family, and over these the famous Monogram 
which expresses at once the figure of the cross and the initial letters of the name of 
Christ. The bearer of the Labarum was an officer of high rank down to the last 
days of the Byzantine government. — See Gibbon, chap. 20. 

Ducange seems to have proved, from the evidence of coins and triumphal monu- 
ments, that a standard of the form of the Labarum was used by various barbarous 
nations long before it was adopted by their Roman conquerors, and he is of opinion 
that its name also was borrowed from either Teutonic Germany, or Celtic Gaul, or 
Sclavonic Illyria. It is certain that either the German language or the Welsh may 
afford at this day a perfectly satisfactory etymon ; Lap-heer in the former, and Lab - 
hair in the latter, having precisely the same meaning — the cloth of the host. 

The form of the Labarum may still be recognized in the banners carried in 
ecclesiastical processions in all Roman Catholic countries. 


Note D, p. 147. — Gaita, the Amazon. 

This Amazon makes a conspicuous figure in Anna Comnena’s account of her 
father’s campaigns against Robert Guiscard. On one occasion (Alexiad, lib. iv. p. 
93) she represents her as thus recalling the fugitive soldiery of her husband to their 
duty, — 'H Se ye r'aira IlaAAas aA At), k&v pr) A 6 r]i/r], kolt avrmv peyurrrjv a^eura <f>o)vr)V) 
p ovov ov to ‘Opr/pucov enos tj) iSia 6iaAe/cT<p \eyeiv e<tu <ei. Me\pi no<r$ <f>et'£ecr 9 e ,• arrjTe , 
avepe s eare. 'fls 8 e eri fievyovras ewpa, Sopv paxpoy evayiaibicrapevr), oA#s 

pvTrjpa? ev 8 $cra Kara rtav <f>evyovT(t> v terai . — That is, exhorting them, in all but Ho- 
mer language, at the top of her voice ; and when this failed, brandishing a long spear, 
and rushing upon the fugitives at the utmost speed of her horse. 

This heroic lady, according to the Chronique Scandaleuse of those days, was 
afterwards deluded by some cunning overtures of the Greek Emperor, and poisoned 
her husband in expectation of gaining a place on the throne of Constantinople. Du- 
cange, however, rejects the story, and so does Gibbon. 


Note E, p. 374 .— Chronicle of Lalain. 

[In the Diary of Sir Walter Scott (19th February 1826) he writes: “Being 
troubled with thick-coming fancies, and a slight palpitation of the heart, I have been 
reading the Chronicle of the Good Knight Messire Jacques de Lalain— curious, but 
dull, from the constant repetition of the same species of combats in the same style 
and phrase. It is like washing bushels of sand for a grain of gold. . . . Still, 

things occur to one. Something might be made of a tale of chivalry,— taken from the 
Passage of Arms, which Jacques de Lalain maintained for the first day of every month 
for a twelvemonth.” 

And in a foot-note Mr. Lockhart says, “ This hint was taken up in Count Robert 
Of Paris .” 

A brief notice of the heroic knight-errant referred to may, therefore, not be consid- 
ered out of place here. 


COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


391 


The “ Chronique du bon Chevalier Messire Tacques de Lalain, Frere et com- 
pagnon de l’Ordre de la Toison d’Or,” attributea to Messire Georges Chastellain, 
forms vol. xxi. of the Collection des Chroniques Nationales Franqaises, published 
by J. A. Buchon, of .which there is a set in the Abbotsford Library. In a previous 
edition of this work, published at Bruxelles, 1634, small 4to, it is called “ Histoire,” 
in place of “Chronique,” and has a small portrait of the bon Chevalier with the Col- 
lar of the Golden Fleece, carefully engraved, evidently from an original miniature 
painting. It may be added that this work was translated into French verse, and 
amplified, by a Flemish knight, Messire Jean d’Ennetiferes, d’Beaume. It was pub- 
lished at Tournay in 1633, w i*h the title, “ Le Chevalier sans Reproche, Jacques de 
Lalain ; ” and is divided into sixteen Books, with an engraved design to each. Had 
Sir Walter set himself to read this version he might have well de cribed it as insuf- 
ferably dull. The circumstance, however, that gives a special interest to this work is 
the portion that relates to Scotland in the reign of James the Second. 

The Nouvelle Biographie Generate contains along article, “ Lalain ou Lalaing 
(Jacques, dit Jacquet de), surnomme le Bon Chevalier,” from which it appears that 
he was born about 1422, and when sixteen years of age was sent to the Court of Adol- 
phus Due of Cleves : he afterwards continued to signalize himself by his exploits as 
the representative of a knight-errant. His biographer remarks, that on the first point 
of view of his historical career, “ Ce personnage on le voit, n’offre qu’un interet 
mediocre. Mais il n’en est pas de meme si on le considkre au point de vue des moeurs 
du temps. Jacques de Lalain nous offre en effet la personification d’un type aussi 
curieux qu’interessant. II fut un des dernier, representants de l’ideal Chevaleresque. 
L’imagination s'attache avec sympathic au destin de ce personnage, exalte jusqu’a 
1'heroisme par la foi qui l’anime.” 

The chapters in the French Chronicle that relate to Scotland are very curious, but 
are too long to be quoted. Jacques de Lalain, hearing of the prowess of Sir James of 
Douglas, sent a letter of challenge by a herald to Scotland, dated July, 1448. The 
reply accepting the challenge, is dated at Edinburgh, 24th September, 1448. He 
accordingly arrived in Scotland in the beginning of 1449, an d tournament took 
place during the time of Lent, at Stirling, in the presence of the Scottish king and 
the nobility, and a great concourse of people. To quote the words of a well-known 
historian ,* — “ Two Burgundians of the noble house of Lalain, and a third styled the 
Esquire Melyades, challenged two of the Douglasses, and Halket, to fight with the 
lance, battle-axe, sword, and dagger. After a festival of some days, the combatants 
entered the lists, clothed in velvet, and proceeded to their pavilions to arm ; the Earl 
of Douglas himself, attended by not less than about five thousand followers, accom- 
panying the Scottish champions. After having been solemnly knighted by the 
Kina', the parties engaged : the spears were soon thrown away : one of the Doug- 
lasses was felled by a battle-axe, and the combat becoming unequal, the King threw 
down his baton, the signal of its termination.” 

At a Chapter of the Order of the Golden Fleece, the 4th of May, 1451, Jacques de 
Lalain was elected a knight of that distinguished Order ; but was slam by a cannon 
ball at the seige of the Chateau de Poucques, 3a July, 1 453 > 3 2 *J 

* Pinkerton’s History , vol. i. p. 207. 











INDEX TO COUNT ROBERT OF PARIS. 


*- 


Achilles Tatius instructs Hereward in • 
Greek policy, 48 ; at court, 66 ; sounds 
Hereward, 109 ; and meeting with Age- 
lastes, 130 ; conspiring with Agelastes, 
220 ; hears of Count Robert’s escape, 
247 ; his plot, 278 ; suspected by the Em- 
peror, 351. 

Acolyte. See Achilles Tatius. 

Acoulouthos. See Achilles Tatius. 

Agatha. See Bertha. 

Agelastes, Michael, the philosopher, 65 ; 
interview with Hereward, 125, 256 ; and 
Achilles, 130 ; meeting with Count Robert 
and Brenhilda, 151 ; his story of the en- 
chanted princess, 153; his retreat, 167; 
distrust of the Emperor, 190 ; conspiring 
with Achilles, 220 ; ominious meeting with 
the Emperor, 295 ; tries to undermine 
Brenhilda’s faith, 302 strangled by the 
ape, 306. 

Alexiad, quotations from, 5. 

Alexius Comnenus, u; accession to the 
throne, 29 ; reception of Hereward, 66 ; 
holds a council on the approaching in- 
vasion, in; his middle course, 134; 
Count Robert occupies his throne, 14 1 ; 
his plot against Count Robert, 185 ; his 
ideas of Agelastes, 190 ; in secret council, 
193 ; drugs Count Robert, 198 ; informed 
of the conspiracy, 267 ; and countermines 
it, 269 ; ominous meeting with Agelastes, 
295 ; confession to the Patriarch, 297 ; 
visit to Ursel in his dungeon, 309', for- 
given by him, 337 ; sharp interview with 
Achilles, 350; pardons the Caesar, 361; 
presents Ursel to the people, 368; end of, 
385 - 

Amazon Gaita, note on, 390. 

American reprints, 24. 

Anglo-Saxons in the Greek service, 38. 

Anna Comnena, 11; in her Temple of the 
Muses, 63; reads the Retreat of Laodi- 
cea, 75 ; presents Hereward with a ring, 
86; affected conversation with Count Rob- 
ert, 177; indignation at the Cassar, 270; 
taken down to Ursel’s dungeon, 309 ; en- 
treats Hereward’s assistance, 313; her 
defence of partiality, 383. 

Artavan de Hautlieu, 156. 

Aspramonte, tournament of, 148. 

Astarte, the caligrapher, 64 

Baldwin, Count, 10. 


Ballantynian ordeal, 17. 

Banquet, Emperor’s, 197. 

Bertha, meeting with Hereward, 250; her 
history, 253 ; goes to Godfrey for assist- 
ance, 282 ; stays Count Robert’s arm, 
374 ; marriage, 3S2. 

Blacquernal, 59 ; dungeons, 200, 309 ; Hall 
of Judgment, 357 ; Pit of Acheron, 357. 

Bohemond of Antioch, 31, 98; bought over 
by Alexius, 131 ; warns Count Robert 
against the wine, 194 j offers to rescue 
Count Robert, 288. 

Bosphorus, 119, 333. 

Bourbons, origin of, 386. 

Boys, best way with, 19. 

Brenhilda, Countess, her warlike wooing, 
148 ; her first display of feminine weak- 
ness, 157 ; strikes down the Scythian, 163 ; 
at Agelastes’ retreat, 169 ; insulted by the 
Cassar, 179 ; with him in the gardens, 236 ; 
challenges him, 241 ; connection with 
Bertha, 258 ; defends the faith with her 
dagger, 304 ; mounts the walls of Jerusa- 
lem, 387 ; note on, 385. 

Bridge of Peril, 58. 

Briennius, Nicephorus, 11; absent from 
Anna’s reading, 64 ; brings news of an 
invasion, 92 ; liberties with Brenhilda, 
179; design on Brenhilda, 225, 236; 
challenged by her, 241 ; asks forgiveness 
for his treason, 318; led to execution, 
359 > pardoned, 361. 

Broken Lances, Our Lady of, 144, 386* 

Byzantine. See Grecian Empire. 

Caesar. See Briennius. 

Camelopard, 173. 

Castle Dangerous, the novel, Author’s die 
appointment in, 15. 

Chapel of the Broken Lances, 144, 386. 

Cities, transplanting of, 27. 

Cleishbotham, Jedediah, introductory ad- 
dress, 14, 

Comnena. See Anna. 

Comnenus. See Alexius. 

Constantine, Emperor, 29 ; tale of his re- 
morse, 356. 

Constantinople, advantages of the site, 28; 
Golden Gate of, 33 ; Bridge of Peril, 58 ; 
view from, 331 ; note on, 389. 

Council, Emperor’s, on the Frankish in- 
vasion, in- 

Count Robert of Paris. See Robert. 

Pm*) 


394 


INDEX. 


Count Robert of Paris, the novel, Author’s 
disappointment in, 17. 

Countess of Paris. See Brenhilda. 

Crispus, tale of, 357. 

Crocodile, the, 173. 

Cross, Greek and Latin forms of, ir6. 

Crusaders, effect of, on the Greek Empire, 
96; Alexius’s terms with, 114; ceremony 
of acknowledging him suzerain, 136 ; 
camp at Scutari, 282 ; reining back their 
horses, 291. 

Cybele, temple of, 122. 

Daughter of the arch, 58. 

Deceivers of woman, unscrupulous of life, 
319 - 

Deities, ancient, 304. 

Devil, principle of the, 304. 

Demetrius, the politician, beats a retreat, 
344 - 

Diogenes, the slave, 120. 

Dog, respect for the noble kinds, 349. 

Douban, the physician, 323. 

Ducange, the historian, 11,389. 

Duelling, the Varangian’s ideas of, 53. 

Durazzo, battle of, 113. 

Edric, the forester, 253. 

Elephant, the, 169. 

Enchanted princess of Zullchium, 153. 

Engelred, the Saxon, 253. 

England in nth century, ior, 104. 

Enthusiasm and ridicule, 194. 

Ernest of Otranto, 283. 

Errors, Author’s, 15. 

Evil principle, 304. 

Falsehood, beginners in, 240. 

Follower, the. See Achilles Tatius. 

Franks, invasion of, 97 ; Alexius’s terms 
with, 1 14 ; haughtiness of, 140 ; origin of, 
180. 

Gaita, note on, 390. 

Gander, river, 17. 

Gibbon, quotations from, 11. 

Godfrey of Bouillon, 10, 98 ; induces the 
crusaders to acknowledge Alexius, 136 ; 
in council, 285. 

Gods, ancient, 304. 

Gold, yellow dross, 187. 

Golden Gate of Constantinople, 33. 

Golden Horn, 332. 

Gourmands, 176. 

Graftine of trees, 27. 

Grand Domestic, 113. 

Grecian Empire, 30 ; policy of, 48 ; weak- 
ness of, 134. 

Greek fire, 344. 

Guiscard, Archduke of Apulia, 65. 

Harold, King, 103. 

Harpax, the centurion, 42 ; at the lists, 341, 
378- 

Hastings, battle of, 104. 

Hereward the Varangian, 34; attempted 
assassination of, 46 ; introduced into the 
court, 62 ; agitation at Anna’s recital of 
the battle, 85 ; informs the court about 


England, 102 ; sounded by Achilles to 
join the conspiracy, 109 ; followed by 
Diogenes, 120 ; interview with Agelastes, 
125 ; is reminded of Bertha, 128, 256 ; 
challenges Count Robert, 142, 182 ; en- 
counter with him in the dungeon, 216; 
watching in the philosopher’s gardens, 
233 ; tells Achilles of Count Robert’s 
escape, 246 ; meets with Bertha, 250 ; 
account of their parentage, 253 ; informs 
Alexius of the plot, 267 ; assists Anna in 
the dungeon, 313; combat with Count 
Robert in the lists, 372 ; repairs with him 
to Palestine, 376 ; marriage, 382 ; and re- 
turn to England, 387. 

Historian, the impartial, 300. 

Imagination, strains on, 15. 

Immortal Guard, 81 ; mutiny of, 367. 

Irene, Empress, 69; quarrel with her hus- 
band, 272 ; counsels Anna to forgive the 
Caesar, 315. 

Ismail, the infidel, 43. 

Jezdegerd, the i r b, 76. 

Kenelm, the Saxon, 127. 

Labarum, note on, 390. 

Lalaiti, Chronicle of, 390. 

Laodicea, retreat of, 54 ; Anna’s history o£, 
75 - 

Lascaris, 343. 

Law of arms, 53. 

Lions of Solomon, 194. 

Listener, appearance of a, 85. 

Lists of Constantinople, 339, 364. 

Lockhart, J. G., advertisement to Count 
Robert, 9. 

Logothete, 114. 

Lying, beginners in, 249. 

Lysimachus, the architect, 40 ; at the lists. 
341 - 

Marriages, Saxon, 254. 

Mirglip, tale of, 28. 

Muses’ temple, 69. 

Mythology, ancient, 303. 

Naval fight in the Bosphorus, 344. 

Negro, color of, 123 ; slavery, 165. 

Nicephorus. See Briennius, 

Normans and Saxons, 101. 

Odin, betrothal of, 254. 

Ourang-outang. See Sylvan. 

Paris, Count and Countess. See Robert 
and Brenhilda. 

Patriarch. See Zosimus. 

Pattieson, Paul, i8> 23. 

Pattieson, Peter, 1 5. 

Peter the Hermit, 30, 289. 

Phraortes, the Greek admiral, 344. 

Philosopher, the. See Agelastes. 

Philosopher’s gardens, 230. 

Philosophy, Hereward’s ideas of, 124. 

Piracy, Scandinavian virtue in, 37. 

Policy, Greek, 48. 


INDEX. 


Polydore, 283. 

Procession of the Crusaders, 137. 

Protospathaire, 72 ; watches Achilles, 352. 

Railway perilous to the nerves, 13. 

Raymond of Thoulouse, 184. 

Rhinoceros, the, 174. 

Ridicule and enthusiasm, 194. 

Robert, Count of Paris, usurping the Em- 
peror’s throne, 10, 141 ; how he gained his 
Countess, 149', meets Agelastes, 151 ; 
routs the Scythians, 163 ; at Agelastes’s 
retreat, 169; conversation with Anna, 177; 
challenged by Hereward, 18 1 ; destroys 
the lions of Solomon, 194 ; drugged by 
Alexius, 198 ; encounter with the tiger in 
the dungeon, 201 ; and with the ourang- 
outang, 219 ; dresses its wound, 214 ; slays 
the warder, 216 ; and struggle with Here- 
ward, 216; sees his Countess in the phi- 
losopher’s gardens, 234 ; secreted by Here- 
ward, 244 ; combat with Hereward in the 
lists, 372 ; his arm stayed by Bertha, 374 ; 
end of, 387. 

St. Drusas, 386. 

St. Sophia, mosque, 215. 

Satan, 304. . _ , 

Saxons and Normans, 103 ; time of Rufus, 

253 - 

Scandinavian virtue in piracy, 37. 

School, Paul Pattieson’s, 18. 

Scutari, 282. 

Scythians’ attack on Brenhilda, 163. 

Sebastes, the assassin, 45 ; death in the 
dungeon, 218. 

Soissons, chapel of, 11. 

Stephanos, the wrestler, 41 ; at the lists, 
34 *» 379 * 

Storm, approach of a, 293. 

Sylvan, the ape, encounter in the dungeon, 
309 ; pursuing Bertha, 250 ; strangles the 


395 

philosopher, 306 ; spreads confusion in the 
lists, 377. 

Tales of my Landlord, success of, 14. 

Tancred of Otranto offers to rescue the 
Countess Brenhilda, 288 ; fight in the 
Bosphorus, 344 ; and landing, 348 ; attends 
the tournament, 365. 

Tar and feathers, 283. 

Tatius- See Achilles. 

Temple of the Muses, 69. 

Theodosius the Great, 33. 

Tiger encounter in the dungeon, 201. 

Tournament at Constantinople, 339, 381. 

Toxartis, the Scythian, 154. 

Urica, the Saxon, 259. 

Ursel, Zedekias, in the dungeon, 202; 
visited by the Emperor, 311 ; attended 
by the physician, 324 ; restored to sight, 
329 ; becomes giddy with his liberty, 333 ; 
refuses the Emperor’s honors, 335 ; pre- 
sented to the people, 368. 

Varanks, the Arab, 89. 

Varangian Guard, 36 ; note on, 389. 

Varangian, the- See Hereward. 

Vermandois, Count of, 97 ; wrecked, 135# 

Vexhelia, 302. 

Villehardouin, the historian, 389. 

Violante, the muse, 65. 

Waltheof, the Saxon, 253. 

William the Conqueror, 103. 

Woman’s place in society, 303. 

Yellow dross, 187. 

Zosimus, the Patriarch, 66 ; his zeal for the 
orthodox cross, 1 16 ; receives the Em- 
peror’s confession, 297 ; his tale of Con- 
stantine, 356. 

Zulichium, enchanted princess of, 153* 








































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